Undoubtedly
by crownuprising
Summary: !COMPLETED! With a history as colorful as her iridescent eyes, Silesia will never back down without a fight. As she is raised by Poland, conquered and exchanged between nations, she constantly finds Prussia, who resembles her in everything but gender and eyes, to be by her side. PRUSSIA X OC (SILESIA) X SCOTLAND Book 1 of the Wyn Trilogy. ((READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!))
1. Chapter 1 - Not Always This Way

**((Hi everyone!**

**This is my first fanfiction, please read and review PRONTO, I need feedback! Thanks!**

**~Lauren))**

**And Ich am very excited about sharing mein life story! Review or I vill get mein husband to skewer you!**

**((Also, I don't own Hetalia, Nyotalia, etc., or any of the lyrics that may turn up in this fanfiction :) Just whatever inspires me! I will give credit at the bottom, and the translations of phrases in German and Polish etc. if you don't know them! Please enjoy! ))**

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_White hair, iridescent eyes, scarred cheek._

I grasped my rapier, sharp and thin, tall and long like me, in my right hand. The man flashed a daunting, cruel smile at me, his ebony hair messy, and his thick broadsword gripped easily in his large hand. He was significantly taller than me, seven inches, and his glasses caught the early morning light. I squinted, refusing to let it blind me.

I prepared to die, making peace with myself before I lunged at him.

It wasn't always this way.

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A young blonde man wandered through the forest on the far side of the mountain, the sunlight catching the strands of his hair and making it glow like gold. He walked with an authoritative aura, using large strides and kicking pebbles when they crossed his path.

"Damn, I've gotten lost again," Feliks Łukasiewicz, or Poland, swore. He kicked a stone larger than the others in his frustration. _Big mistake._ "Shit! That hurts!"

A wail cut through the silent forest, startling him. "What the hell-?!" Feliks strode over to look for the source of the headache-inducing noise. The screams pierced through his mind as easily as an arrow would and he _had_ to stop it before it drove him insane.

A baby, wailing and alone, in a Prussian blue blanket lay on a large slab of stone before a cave, almost like an offering to the depths of blackness. She was pale, so pale, like the snow still melting at the top of the mountain. Her hair was a shock of ice-white, which surprised Feliks into swearing more.

He swooped down to look at her like a hawk, and he swore and jumped back when she opened her eyes to stare at him. She had eerie iridescent eyes, a rainbow, an aurora of soft colors. Feliks sighed. He would have _loved_ to replicate them onto fabric for a scarf maybe, or a headband.

The girl stared at him, as if saying "are you going to pick me up or not?"

Feliks gritted his teeth, blushing, before scooping the girl up in his thin arms. Maybe someone would come and claim her, or her parents would come back…

He knew something bad was going to happen to him if he decided to raise her. He wasn't the most responsible of people anyways, enjoying cross-dressing in pretty skirts… He could dress her up! She would be adorable in Prussian blue, like the blanket that wrapped her up, or in a bold red. Or lace…

A growl pierced the silence as a pack of wolves emerged from the cave. Feliks turned slowly.

"SHIIIIIT!"

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**I know it's a short first chapter. R&R please! I'm working hard, I promise!**

**I will be TRYING to update daily, so make sure you follow and check back!**


	2. Chapter 2 - You Ruined My Clothes

**((Thank you so much, Kunikohime Madoka Tanuki, for your review! **

**I'll be updating as much as I can, at least once a day for sure on weekends, weekdays is going to be harder.**

**Enjoy a longer Chapter 2 everyone.))**

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Feliks turned and ran, flailing his arms in the air and consequently throwing the girl. He swore more and caught her. "Why do I have to be the one running?! My hair is so ruined thanks to you!"

The girl giggled and her eyes sparkled, making their color bright. _She's going to be beautiful when she grows up,_ Feliks thought. But right now he was concentrating on saving his- well, their- hides, and preserving his hair as much as he could.

The wolves barked and Feliks screamed at an even higher pitch than the girl, who squealed in delight, and he began speeding up his pace down the mountain. "You have got to be kidding me!"

A glint in the girl's eyes held an uncanny intelligence and she laughed as they raced down the mountain. Feliks leaped over a rock and stumbled, letting out a string of curses. "My clothes are ruined!" he wailed as mud splashed onto him, and he held the girl even closer. A scowl was plastered on his face as he ran, not caring in which direction, and didn't notice when the wolves' howls and barks faded into the distance.

Feliks, clutching the girl to his chest, slowed to a stop. "You know, you're awfully troublesome," he said to the girl. "But you need a name so I can yell at you for RUINING THESE CLOTHES!"

The girl stared up at him, yawned, and closed her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep.

"What?! You can't just…fall asleep when I'm trying to…arggh!" Feliks exclaimed. _Unbelievable, she, like, knows what I'm going to say!_ He thought in disbelief.

He took a closer look at her blankets, wondering if anyone left any notes to her identity. He felt like a pervert as he peered at the fold separating him from her small body, looking for a piece of paper.

_Ha! _ He thought exuberantly as he found a piece of paper in that exact spot. Using his thin fingers, he pulled out the ivory stationery with ease. Feeling its weight in his hands, crisp and heavy, it had to be from someone wealthy; obviously wealthy enough to care for this girl ten times over. What country could she be?

Feliks opened the note in his right hand, cradling her in his left arm. Her head was warm in the crook of his elbow, and he felt an overwhelming feeling of…parenthood? Responsibility? Protectiveness? Love? Despite ruining his clothes, he felt something deep inside for her, something he didn't recognize.

The note opened, he read its contents. The script was written in a hand almost brutally, but with a hidden amount of care underneath the surface. He could barely read it- it was in German, but he could make out most of the words.

Feliks closed the note, tucking it in his left pocket. He continued along the path, recognizing it now. _Almost home, little one._

The wild woods opened to a clearing lighted up by the noon sun, and both the countries' stomachs growled.

"We'll eat when we get home, promise, 'cuz I'm absolutely _starving_ from all that manual labor you made me do," He said to her softly.

In the middle of the clearing rested a small cottage on the path, discreet but warmth emanating from it, and Feliks looked upon it fondly. The wildflowers that lined the edges of the house were planted by him, naturally, and they looked _fabulous_. He congratulated himself on the excellent labor.

He continued on the path, using his right hand to open the wood door reinforced by iron swirls, handiwork he was proud of.

"Welcome to _Polska_, Silesia. May you always grace our halls."

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**((Thanks for reading so far, R&R please? Criticism is appreciated!**

**Silesia's name will come soon ;) Check back soon!**

**Don't forget to follow us on Instagram crownuprising_silesia ))**


	3. Chapter 3 - A Broken Peace

**((Thanks to Kunikohime Madoka Tanuki for your continued support through reviews! Everyone else, R&R PLEASE!**

**This took a lot of work...5 pages! I hope you enjoy.))**

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"Wyn!" Feliks yelled. His back hurt from bending down to catch her and his muscles were sore from chasing her, trying to catch her. _Wyn Meier._ He almost collapsed into the first chair that he saw.

He closed his eyes, sighing. Who knew that this one girl, scarcely seven, could be the death of Poland?

He heard a light twinkle that was his little girl's laugh, and she came flying into (not literally) Feliks's lap. With an _oomph!_ he sat up, gasping, and opened his eyes.

Wyn had softly curling silver hair that mimicked the wisps of mist in the night air, and almost pallid skin almost as transparent as glass. Her eyes glittered with intelligence and mischief, and a will stronger than his own. Her motives would get her in trouble one day, and Feliks had already seen this.

"What a fabulous outfit," he remarked to Wyn. "I wonder, who made it?"

"You did, of course," she scoffed with a haughty air. She scratched the back of her neck, where a long line of buttons ended. Naturally, they were in the name of fashion, but Wyn absolutely _loathed_ how she had to sit long enough for Feliks to button it for her. She could have been hunting, or eating, or reading, or writing. But as long as she was clutching her prized rapier (which she had begged for and Feliks gave in after an hour of her nonstop torture) she would sit still enough for him to dress her.

"And I did a, like, amazing job," Feliks said. "Why do you always have to-"

_Knock._ A single pound on the door broke his sentence. "Omigod, who the hell is that?! I was just about to tell you about all the work I put into-"

_Knock._ Another pound shook the frame of the door. Feliks scowled and Wyn slid off his lap.

"Dammit, hide, it'd better not be-"

The frame of the door shook and with another powerful knock, the door was blown off its hinges, and a huge man, at least a foot taller than Feliks, walked in calmly after a small boy. Six others filed into the small cottage after them, of varying height and gender, but all with the same hardened face and glittering, snakelike eyes as the man who had knocked down the door. _Relatives,_ Wyn guessed. She watched them from the shadows of the hall on the right, wishing she could run and grab her rapier to challenge them.

"Oi, Feliks," the boy called to the man that stood angrily across from them. "You haven't been paying tribute."

Feliks shuddered nervously at the boy's ice-blue eyes and stern expression, mirroring exactly the one his father wore. "There is a famine, Holy Roman Empire, you can't possibly expect us to-"

"There will be no questions," the boy said sternly. Wyn was surprised by his mature expression in a boy barely years older than her. Feliks shook where he stood in fear. "Feliks, your tribute is due by the end of this week."

He surveyed the room and Wyn shrank back. But her silver hair almost glowed in the darkness, and one of the others came and grabbed her arm roughly. She cried out, and Poland went red. "What are you doing to her?! Let go of her!"

Wyn finally got a better look at the odd band that had invaded their peace so quickly and cruelly. The large man wore leather armor and rough clothing, and a sword and dagger were buckled at his hip. She yearned to test her skills, especially since she had since beat every one of Feliks's friends in swordsmanship. A large quiver and unstrung bow lay on his back, beaten up and marked in small rows of lines. He stood towering over Feliks, with long blond hair reaching to the small of his back, some in small braids.

The boy that was clearly threatening Feliks appeared taller than her with the help of a flat black hat rimmed in gold. His darker blond hair was almost covered by it, and his eyes were the same sharp blue as the man's. His black cape and pants were of fine material, and a fluffy lace-collared white shirt was buttoned up uncomfortably to his chin, much like Wyn's dress. His boots were made of black leather, and Wyn envied his ability to stride around easily.

The others behind the man were all taller than the boy, except for the girl. She wore a sweet expression and Wyn thought, _I'd be friends with her._ Her hair was blond and the same length as another boy's, whose features she shared. Both had eyes the color of summer pools, the kind that shifted between emerald and blue so easily they could only be described as, well, summer pools. You could tell the difference between them through their opposite frowns and smiles, respectively, and the girl wore a dark evergreen ribbon in her hair. The boy clutched a bow like it was his lifeline in his left hand and scowled at everything, pushing the girl behind him.

There was one more blond boy, taller than the others, who wore glasses. His stern expression matched that of the others, but his hair was clipped short and was slightly unruly. His eyes were the same shade as the man and the young boy's. _I'd mix the three of them up in a second!_ Wyn thought.

He stood in front of another boy (were they all boys?!) that wore a snotty expression as well as glasses, with a shirt more elaborately decorated in lace but with dark brown hair. His eyes were violet, a shade of amethyst that Wyn liked. _He looks like a bully…_she thought nervously.

The strangest of the boys was one that wore his hair tied up in messy mixture of a bun and ponytail, with one long strand hanging down the left side of his face. If his hair was untied, Wyn would have guessed it was the same length as the man's. With eyes the color of spring pools, not summer, they were tinged with green the same way as lily pads that obscured the surface of the water. His eyes widened and his expression turned to one of – guilt? Acknowledgement? Mistakes? – at Wyn.

Wyn gaped at the last of the boys. Just like her, he had tousled hair and skin the color of a ghost, like a pale wispy cloud at the edge of a bright blue sky, compared to the other blond-haired, blue-eyed boys. He similarly stared back, ruby eyes meeting iridescent ones.

"Who's this? She looks well fed," the boy remarked. Wyn smacked his hand off with her free hand, drawing a curved dagger from underneath a flap of fabric on her black skirt.

"Go away and don't come back," she growled between her teeth.

"Get back. Now!" Feliks said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. He stepped forward to claim her, but she attempted slashing at the boy when another flew in the way. The blade caught the boy with the ponytail from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, blood gushing out, and Wyn was quite pleased at the damage she had done.

"_Bruder _(1)!" the violet-eyed, dark haired one exclaimed and leapt forward to help the one lying on the ground, groaning in pain. The others followed in succession, even the one threatening Feliks, producing fabric and needles and thread from seemingly nowhere. He was shadowed from view by the troupe, and the man turned on Wyn and Feliks.

Feliks whirled Wyn around in rage. "Do you have any idea what you just did?!"

The large blond man frowned deeply. "_Ja _(2), do you, girl?"

"I-…" Wyn started.

"That was your _bruder_," the man kept a calm, level voice, which frightened Wyn even more than any yelling.

"She doesn't have siblings! She was abandoned-" Feliks began to say in her defense, but was cut off.

"In the mouth of the wolf cave seven years ago. _Ja_, that was her _bruder_ who placed her there when he couldn't feed her any longer, who I adopted when he wandered into the village sobbing after giving her up. Her _bruder_ who she just blinded for possibly the rest of his life!"

Wyn stared in horror at the boy writhing in pain on the ground, being attended by a fury of attendants. "Who are you?"

"_Ich bin Germania _(3)_,_" he said sternly. "People call me Günther Beilschmidt. These are my children."

The boy she had injured- her _bruder_- got up without a sound, not even a mew of pain. His eye and the wound had been sewn shut and he held a pad of fresh fabric to his wound, but his other eye immediately went to Wyn.

The others quickly lined up in a certain order, and Wyn was unsure why, but Günther quickly barked out a few orders in German, which she actually understood. "_Antreten lassen! Nennen! _(4)_"_

_I only know this because I really am his sister,_ she shuddered at the thought, knowing their claim was true. Feliks put a hand on her shoulder protectively as they stared at the line of Germans before them.

The boy with the black coat went first, saluting Günther, who must have been his father. "_Heil _(5)! I am Holy Roman Empire."

"He doesn't have a regular name?" Wyn whispered to Feliks nervously, clawing at her skirt. Her dagger had dropped and she kicked it away.

"Just be respectful and nod," he whispered.

Wyn glared at the boy who had given her so much trouble and raised her chin at him with as much attitude as she could. "Delighted," she said, the word drawn out slowly across her teeth. From behind, Feliks kicked her.

"I'm Prussia. I am awesome, and you'll never defeat me in anything," the next said. He was the one that so closely resembled Wyn, and he noticed his ego was larger than life. He gave her a half-smile, charming her with a glance. "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Wyn blushed and let one corner of her mouth turn up before gritting her teeth again.

"Sweden. Berwald Oxenstierna." Said the tall blond with glasses. His voice was low, almost as low as Günther's.

"Hesse," her _bruder_ mumbled. Wyn stared nervously at her toes. "My name is Christoph Meier."

"_Bruder…_" she began but Feliks shushed her, using a glare to imply that she was to wait until the last three had introduced themselves.

"My name is Roderich Edelstein, I am Austria," the violet-eyed, dark-haired one said. He used two fingers to push his glasses up. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I am Switzerland and this is my sister Liechtenstein," the last boy said, introducing his sister and himself. "Don't you dare hurt her! My name is Vash Zwingli and this is Lili."

They all stared at her intently and Wyn realized she had to introduce herself. With a trembling breath, she spoke in an even tone, trying to convey that she wouldn't back down without a fight. "My name is Wyn Meier, and I am Silesia."

With a soft squeeze of her shoulder, Feliks looked at her with a certain softness in his usually cocky expression.

"Well, Wyn Meier, welcome to the _Deutsch __Familie _(6)," Günther began, but was cut off by Feliks's cry of shock.

"She's my little girl! I raised her when _you_ abandoned her! No, I will not let you take this girl!" he said with more fierceness than Wyn had ever heard from him, even when he spoke about clothes.

"Then we'll take her," Holy Roman Empire said snottily.

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**(1) Brother**

**(2) Yeah, Yes, (etc.)**

**(3) I am Germania.**

**(4) Line up! Names!**

**(5) Hail! (you know, like Heil Hitler, same concept)**

**(6) German family**

**Author's Note: ((I am sorry for some of the names, I understand there are other variations of spelling, but I chose the ones I liked best/saw the most often. The German is mostly from my knowledge but some is from Google Translate, tell me if it's wrong! Please!**

**READ AND REVIEW! I think that I will change the rating back to T in case my sister finds this...**

**How is it so far? PLEASE REVIEW! IT TAKES HARD WORK! Is Poland OOC or any of the characters (Silesia doesn't count)?  
**

**Especially since I took my CM Piano test this morning... -_- Advanced Level! And I managed to pump out almost 2000 words!**

**Next chapter soon :) I'm so addicted to writing this! Now REVIEW WHILE YOU WAIT! Thanks!))**


	4. Chapter 4 - Dust Left Behind

**((sorry for late update, I've been studying math...remember to R&R!))**

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"You wouldn't," Feliks's eyes widened in horror at Holy Roman Empire's threat. He pushed Wyn behind him protectively, just as Vash had done with Lili. Wyn noticed that his cocky expression had flown from his features. With icy eyes, Holy Roman Empire turned his gaze to Wyn.

"Why not? She is one of us, _ja_?"

Lili shrank behind Vash in a similar fashion, disliking the whirl of hatred around them. She liked being behind her older brother, where it was warm and safe, and wondered if Wyn felt that way too.

"Feliks, don't let them take me," hissed Wyn similarly.

"_Ja_, you wouldn't have to pay tribute for the rest of your life if you returned her to us," Günther vowed. The Germanic family nodded in agreement, murmuring in German that she must've been the rich territory Poland had been hiding for so long, the resource he used to buy more fabric for clothes with.

Gilbert couldn't take his eyes off the girl as she stood behind Feliks, rolling her eyes. Was her arrogance, like his, only a mask against fear?

"She's my sister, I have the right to take her back," Christoph said.

"After you abandoned her to the wolves? I think that hardly qualifies you as a stellar brother figure," Feliks snapped. "Come on, Wyn, let's show them out. I'll pay you by the end of the month."

Wyn, relieved that she wouldn't leave, stepped out from behind Feliks confidently. Both of them didn't notice the almost imperceptible nod that exchanged within the Germanic family.

"Go," Günther said, and Roderich grabbed Wyn with almost superhuman speed. Holy Roman Empire and Günther walked out of the house's open (nonexistent) door, as Vash and Bernwald held a screaming Feliks down. Gilbert watched, stunned, as his family kidnapped Wyn. Lili broke into tears, but after sniffling, wiped her nose with a lace hanky and followed her brother and father out the door.

"Let me go!" Wyn yelled at Roderich. "How dare you! What do you want from us?!"

Amethyst eyes bore into her own iridescent ones. "I want you, and your _bruder_ wants you back. Feliks owes us something. It's only business."

"Fetch her things, Gilbert!" Holy Roman Empire ordered.

"You can't take her from me! She's like my daughter!" Feliks yelled. "I'll wage a war, mark my words, for this! Wyn, don't worry! I'll get you back!"

Gilbert stared in horror but soundlessly picked up Wyn's dagger, going down to the end of a hall and into a room on the left. That's the room he would've chosen, and he'd picked right. The room was tastefully decorated, with gold and silver accents on a black and Prussian blue theme. He hummed his approval.

Going through the closet and finding really appropriate for her to wear back in their lands, he took only a feminine waistcoat, similar to what his younger _bruder_ Roderich always liked to wear. The snob. His eyes widened in shock and agreement at the beautiful rapier hanging on the wall, and put those in a bag he'd found lying on the ground. He could smell the forest on it, and assumed it was her hunting bag.

"Gilbert! Hurry!" Vash called from downstairs.

He hesitated as he heard chirps from a small basket in the corner. _What kind of a girl keeps songbirds with her rapier, especially in her room?!_

He went to see what the ruckus was when two balls of yellow fluff attacked his face. "That is NOT AWESOME!" he yelled and managed to stuff them into the bag.

The remaining members of the Germanic family ran out the door, Feliks on their heels. Gilbert swung himself up onto a black horse, galloping away on the same tracks his family had made.

"War!" yelled Feliks to the dust the kidnappers had left behind. He bowed his head, staring at the dirt that settled at his feet. He had failed her, his treasure. She would probably never walk the halls of Poland ever again, which only strengthened his resolve.

Gilbert was already far away enough to not have heard this. He was the last German to leave Feliks's home.

"Wyn Meier," he mused as he followed the dirt road. A girl worth fighting a war against, a girl worthy enough to be won. Life would get interesting soon, very soon.

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**((Hi readers! Sorry for the late update and short chapt, but a longer one will come soon, hopefully with some sparks and swords and language flying... ;) I have a short week so I will try to write more! Be patient! Please read and review, I think I'm at least a little OOC here, I need to know!))**


	5. Chapter 5 - Red Poppies

Wyn quivered as Roderich gripped her waist with his left hand, steering his handsome dark bay horse with his right. She felt naked without her dagger and violated as this young man held onto her with a bone-breaking force, his long fingers grabbing the fabric and flesh at the same time.

She began to bore at the constant pace of the horse, and reminded herself, _I _will_ return to Feliks. I won't fall asleep._

She sat straighter as they passed the farthest place she knew from her home, the wolf cave. The familiar sight frightened her more than it reassured her, and tears began forming in her eyes. She scraped them away with her sleeve, taking a deep breath of the mountain air.

Hours passed and Wyn's stomach began to growl. Not a word had been exchanged between her and her kidnapper, and when they came to a stop at a lake, she leaped down immediately.

"_Nein_, you won't do that," Roderich jumped down similarly and took her arm, knowing she would run back at the first chance she got. He spoke in German to her, a language she knew by heart. "We'll wait for the others here, and eat. I know you're hungry, no use trying to lie."

Wyn opened her mouth to make a retort when her brother, on a chestnut, emerged from the forest and leapt off to land between them. "Roderich, you didn't have to kidnap her," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "We could have talked with Feliks. You are not the master of this family-"

"Then who is? You? Günther?" Roderich hissed. "No. A 'little brother' called Holy Roman Empire, who's barely older than Lili!"

Wyn stared at him. "You call your _vati_ by his name?"

"_Ja,_ Roderich doesn't want to be associated with- what do you call us?- ah, yes, lowly cowards. This is not a family, Wyn," Christoph said. "He's brought you to a madhouse."

"You'll be my wife," Roderich proclaimed. "I'll give you anything you want."

Christoph rolled his eyes, but Wyn was clearly startled. _Is he mad? _She thought.

"I'm only seven!" Wyn protested.

"When you're older you'll see."

"No," Christoph asserted. "You can have any girl, but not my sister."

Vash, Holy Roman Empire, and Günther rode into their scene, followed by Lili. "What is going on here?" Günther demanded. "There will be no marriages in this family until you all are older."

Roderich shot a dirty look at Christoph, who returned it. Between the quarreling family, Wyn felt lost, and knew she didnt't belong there. At that moment, Prussia and Sweden rode in to complete the strong family.

"Besides, no one will get married before _bruder_ Gilbert and Berwald," Vash pointed out.

"We meant sincere welcomes," chirped Lili. "You'll be my big sister now! I've always wanted a sister."

Wyn nodded in response. Instead of being excited, she was more afraid, of the shadows that lurked at the edges of this family. This painting they painted of perfection was an illusion, but perhaps some things were material in this dangerous world she had wandered into.

She looked down at her dress before silently accepting a piece of bread from Berwald, who seemed the most malevolent of the male siblings. She would steer clear of Roderich and Holy Roman Empire for sure, but Günther seemed alright. He ran a tighter household than Feliks, obvious from his quick reprimands for his children. Lili would always be friendly but too innocent to confide in. And Gilbert and Vash...well, she would have to see.

Wyn's days faded into mountains, streams, and bread as theiy continued to travel vast amounts of distance over the country to return to officially German lands. She was relieved to be able to ride with Lili, and Vash followed protectively after the two of them. She could think of nothing but Feliks, her adopted brother. Would he really wage a war just for her? Even with his obsession for fashion and sassy outlook on life, and his endless complaints about her clothes and fighting and hunting, he had taught her everything.

Wyn didn't notice the constant red and purple orbs that stared at her long silver hair as it trailed behind her laughs with Lili.

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It was two weeks on the road before Gilbert approached Wyn, holding in front of him a familliar sight to her. The chicks were quiet during the journey, and he snuck them crumbs as he hung at the back of the family's train of horses.

"You had this with you the entire time?!" Wyn exclaimed. "Why would you keep this with you?!"

Gilbert was speechless as she snatched the leather bag from his hands. Her temper fascinated him, the way she could snap one second and laugh with Lili and Vash the next. Why couldn't she laugh with him? Was it because they were so similar, or because of his red eyes?

She stormed away and his mouth curled into a half-smile. No, she could never be with Roderich, he decided.

He watched as her expression changed from anger to pure shock as the chicks twittered happily to see her.

"How are my birdies?" Wyn said softly. They were larger than she remembered, and healthy. How could Gilbert hide them for so long?

They were full grown now, with tufts of soft yellow feathers. They needed names.

"Pah, I'll regret this later," she said to herself. The chicks, a magical breed from Feliks's friend Vladimir, would never die. One boy and one girl, they were distinguished by the tiny red bow on the girl whereas the boy didn't have one. She wanted to name them now, when it seemed appropriate, so she would have something to hold on to in the days ahead.

"You'll be Poppy," Wyn whispered to the girl chick, who whistled in response. She smiled, remembering the bright red flower that awaited her in the fields by her home, where Feliks had taken her on the first day of their blooming season. She remembered their inner fire, black in the middle where the coals seemed to smoulder, and their contrast against her paleness. Most importantly, she remembered how Feliks had told her to give a red poppy to the person she would spend her life with.

And the other- she wasn't sure about a boy's name. But Gilbert...the most German of the children of Günther that wasn't Holy Roman Empire...he had kept them alive for her. They had survived under his care. A miracle.

The chick made a low whistle of impatience and she smiled once more. "You'll be Gilbird."

_Cicho jak makiem zasial_ (1) would be what Feliks would say to her at this moment.

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**(1) Silence as like somebody has sown a poppy. A popular phrase in Polish regarding the corn poppy or red poppy, the national flower of Poland.**

**Well, a long chapter, a long day! I'm so proud of this! And I'm really happy that I kept my promise to update daily. Will try to keep that streak!**

**Remember tot R&R. Now ! Please!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Stay, Wyn, Please

The climate was different from what Wyn was used to; that was only one of the many differences between the German home and her home with Feliks. Salty air tickled her nose as she gazed upon the beautiful estate waiting before her. She had never known such luxury in her life. She admired the marble columns and balconies, the sculpted terraces and fountains. A pale streak of sunlight lit the buildings with a soft glow, and the gardens extended far around the lands of the main _haus. _(1)

And the view! The sea was only five miles away, and in the summer, Lili and Vash had promised that they would spend weeks in the smaller house on the bay.

"You'll love it here!" Lili gushed. "You can have the room next to mine. Vash sleeps in the one on my right."

"I think I'll choose one on my own," Wyn stammered. She didn't want to make enemies by siding so easily with Lili and Vash, especially in a family this split. For god's sake, half of them had different last names!

"There are dozens of unoccupied rooms. She'll choose her own, Lili," Günther ordered. Turning away with a tiny pout, Lili stood next to Vash once more. Günther pressed two fingers to his lips, mumbling a blessing, and the children repeated it. "_Gott segne dieses Haus und alle die da gehen ein und aus._" (2)

With that, they entered the estate, large black and gold gates opening for the family.

* * *

Wyn wandered the halls alone, declining the multiple friendly (and one too friendly) offers to give her a tour. _In getting lost, you'll find yourself,_ she reassured herself. The halls we lined with springy Persian carpets, a gift from a man named Sadiq, Lili had assured her. He was rich and liked wearing white silk masks; that was another fact Lili had given with that information.

The hall seemed abandoned from here, the corridor bathed in shadow as the rest of the curtains were closed from this point on. She could barely make out the two doors at the end of the hall, one on the left, and one on the right.

She continued on, the dark providing a cloak for her. She pulled on her skirt, worn and dusty from the trip, and wondered what Feliks would say of her now. She could almost imagine him demanding why she would trust these people, and people with no sense of fashion! Besides the fact that they were German, anyways.

Wyn opened the door on her left- her lucky side, she'd never liked her right anyways- and walked into the room. The smell was already different here, not musty and not crisp, but settling, like a river into the ocean. She could make out a four poster bed with black and white silk comforters, and pillows that looked slept in. The room had three more doors scattered around its perimeters and she closed the door behind her with a soft click.

She took a better sniff of the air and realized what she was smelling, coming straight from the bed in large wafts. And around the bed- piles of it.

In a few strides, she could peer at the person lying so tiredly, so soundly against the goose down pillows. A glass bottle was in his hand, and he looked pitiful, so pitiful, for the brother that was destined to inherit everything in the Germanic family.

"Gilbert?" she whispered. His messy white hair was tousled and slightly damp when she brushed it back from his forehead. She felt unbelievably older than her age from this trip, that she had gained knowledge from being without any security for the past few weeks.

Even though the family had only returned a few hours ago, the light was fading from the sky and in the shadows of his room, Gilbert had locked himself in to drink.

Feliks had told her about the horrors of drink; how it changed men and what they said was more truthful with it. He never drank, but they had certainly visited the village enough to know the scent of alcohol.

He groaned in response, and she crawled up into the bed, sinking into it. She removed the bottle from his hand and smoothed his forehead, trying to erase the worry lines that creased their way from one side to the other.

"What did you do to yourself?" she murmured, pulling a blanket over his limp body.

"Good German beer, you'll grow to like it too, _liebling_ (3)," he muttered.

"You're too young to drink," she hissed, disgusted.

"Mein awesomeness can overcome it," he grinned as he turned in his sleep. "Stay, Wyn, please."

"With you, like this? No way!" she stormed away, feeling a flutter in her chest. Gilbird chirped from her shoulder, almost like he was suggesting to stay. She'd forgotten about her loyal companions sitting on her shoulders, one on the left and one on the right.

Wyn gently laid the chick by Gilbert's neck. "_Gut nacht, (4) _Gilbert." she said before exiting the darkened room.

She would take the room across from his, in this quiet corner of his world, she decided.

* * *

**(1) house**

**(2) "God bless this house and all who are going in and out."**

**(3) darling**

**(4) Good night**

**((Shorter chapter, sorry! Been busy with my schoolwork. Enjoy this, and I will be speeding up their childhood! Got a good plan in place, so no worries. Great chappie coming up! Make sure you READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!))**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Devil is in the Details

Time passed faster after Wyn moved in, the days falling into a predictable pattern that she both loved and hated. Günther drilled his children in subjects like war, economy, diplomacy, and hand-to-hand combat. He taught them how their actions affected the course of history, and how to manage their countries. He also told them how treaties or alliances would change them.

"As a country, there is no personal time. You cannot make statements that will compromise your country, for your people will pay the price. If you fall in love with another country, and marry, your people will be united. You represent all the ideals of your land, and therefore you cannot fail your people," his voice resonated throughout the conference room on the ground floor where he taught them.

Wyn looked around for Gilbert at her lessons, finding that his sporadic appearances helped fuel her attendance. He only appeared at meals and the occasional war lecture. Most often, she found him passed out on his bed, in the room across from hers, hidden in shadow. She would whisper comforts to him, tuck him in, and see that he took care of himself. She had learned to cook _wurst_ (1) just for him, and he thanked her by getting drunker. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave him to his own wits and condemn him to a life even more lonely than it was now.

Wyn was growing, as a nation, and as a woman. She was taller now, more mature, and German influence had led to her forgetting much of Feliks' teachings. She was brutal, likely to make a kill than to give a creature leniency.

* * *

"Let's hunt, Wyn," Vash strode into her room one morning, before sunrise. He was wearing a double-breasted dark green coat, military trousers and boots. A white beret adorned his hair and he clutched his curved bow in his hand. He was taller than Wyn, but barely, with chin-length blond hair and piercing green eyes. Holy Roman Empire grunted behind him, still like a child in height and stature.

She groaned, stretching, and Vash turned around to avoid staring at her slim figure. He was a gentleman, like Roderich prided himself on, and strode out. "Be ready in ten minutes."

"_Ja,_ of course," Wyn said. She picked out a Prussian blue waistcoat to go over her black shorts and frilly white lace shirt, pulling white leather thigh-high boots on her long legs. She brushed her hair out, the silky silver practically glowing in the dark, and placed the tricorn hat with flourishes and feathers on her head. She grabbed her rapier, knife, and hunting bow on her way out the door.

"Isn't that a bit short?" Vash frowned at her shorts. His face flushed, he turned away.

"Maybe because you're too stubborn to enjoy it?" she suggested. Holy Roman Empire grunted, his form of a chuckle, and began walking down the hall.

"Let's go, _vati_'s (2) waiting," Vash said gruffly, and Wyn laughed.

"You're old enough to find a girl, Vash, just admit that your hormones are raging like the beer that Berwald drinks with his sauerkraut face every night," Wyn joked.

"I stay for Lili," he said crossly. "And you shouldn't be taking what Gilbert tells you so seriously. You're changing, and you're becoming like him."

"Why shouldn't I? You want to see me as Roddy's bride? I have every reason to attach myself to the one who's going to own your _arsches_ (3) when _vati_ dies!" she burst out. She covered her mouth when she realized she had called for her adopted _vati_'s death.

Christoph grunted as he joined their walking group. He was silent as he watched his younger sister and adopted brother bicker.

Vash's mouth was set in a grim line. "You should watch your mouth. Who knows when the gods are listening."

The trio made their way silently down to the stables, and mounted their horses. Holy Roman Empire, who was always sickly, whistled to his pack of dogs, and they began their hunt, Günther galloping after them. Gilbert, as always, was sleeping (it off, Wyn knew), and Berwald had decided not to join them that morning.

The party was silent as they traversed the country, following the hounds in their pursuit of the stag the dogs had spotted earlier. Their plumes and finery flew in the early spring breeze, and Wyn readied her arrow for a kill shot. Her hand was far steadier than Vash's, and certainly Roderich's. Holy Roman Empire and Günther loved challenging her ability, training her to shoot from longer distances.

They were closing in on the hunted animal when a heavy thump distracted Wyn. Wyn turned just enough in her seat to scream.

Holy Roman Empire had fallen from his horse. A war cry was heard as Feliks and another man, leading hundreds of troops, rode down the hill at the hunting party.

"Ride!" Günther yelled, and Wyn spurred her horse into a gallop, her siblings doing the same. Another loud thump was heard, and two of their party were dead. Wyn choked back sobs as they were chased by the intruders, not recognizing their uniforms.

"Wyn!" a voice called to her. She didn't recognize it and she didn't turn to see who it was.

* * *

The gates clanged shut behind them as a hail of arrows was released. The Germanic family, now leaderless and under siege, was in chaos as they ran into the _haus_. Roderich, Lili, Berwald, and even Gilbert were waiting in the main dining hall when the disheveled group came in.

"What's wrong?" both Gilbert and Roderich demanded when they saw Wyn sobbing. Berwald watched them file in, observing their patterns and movements with an ominous silence.

"They're not dead, are they?" Berwald whispered. He had counted them, and with a heavy heart, delivered the impending blow.

"_Ja_," Christoph said softly. "Lithuanian and Polish soldiers are outside. They've finally come for her."

"_Nein _(4)_,_" Roderich said in disbelief. "That's not possible!"

_"__Der Teufel steckt im Detail __(5)_," Lili whispered a German proverb before breaking into sobs. Vash rubbed her back comfortingly as his face grew red. Had it only been that very morning when they had set off as a family to hunt? They were here now, in war, without their commander.

"We must take charge," Christoph reminded everyone. "We cannot mourn when their army is at our doorstep. We have to stay as a family."

With incredible speed, Roderich lunged at Wyn, wrapping his arm around her neck. "You will listen to my command, then, or I will break her neck."

Gilbert stood. "As is my birthright, you are all under my jurisdiction. The duty falls to me as Günther's oldest son."

"He wouldn't break her neck," Berwald growled. "She's too precious to him."

"Dissolution isn't the answer!" Vash pointed out. "We have to stick together."

"Not with you trying to wrest control from me every thirty seconds!" Gilbert yelled at Roderich. "You lying, scheming shell of a country!"

Wyn stomped on Roderich's foot, elbowing him in the stomach. He let her go as he doubled over in pain. "I can make decisions for myself. While you argue, my country grows wealthier. I think you should listen to my voice right now, when I control your peoples' welfare!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Vash snarled. Wyn winced at his harsh tone, from a person she loved ever since she began living with the Germanic family, and hardened her expression.

"We listen to Gilbert and try to discuss a peace treaty with these people," she said with a steely edge in her voice. "We muster our armies and fight together in case the peace talks don't work."

"Why Gilbert?" Christoph demanded. "He isn't the one who has been attending lessons like the rest of us have. He's been sleeping in his bedroom day and night, like the monster he is, and you're willing to give power to him just because he's older than us?!"

"You don't recognize them?" Roderich laughed, a sinister sound far from the music he made. "That's Feliks and Toris Lorinaitis. Poland and Lithuania are trying to break down our doors, just like they promised."

"A result of your actions," Berwald reminded him sternly.

"Feliks?" Wyn searched her mind, not remembering. She knew she had adopted this family, but-

"He raised you, Wyn, until you were seven," Christoph said.

"We should go through with her plan. It's more reasonable than all of yours!" Lili screeched. She hated the arguing voices, wanted it to stop.

Vash moved protectively over her. "You should listen."

Gilbert was silent throughout the debate, clenching his fist. His mind was foggy from his hangover, and remembered that Wyn didn't visit him that morning to check on him.

"Their armies are at our doors," Berwald observed. "We have to come to a conclusion."

Wyn grinned. "Let's go through with this."

"All in favor say _ja_," Lili offered. Berwald, Wyn, Lili, and Vash's voices joined in unison to agree. "And those opposed?"

Roderich's _nein_ echoed with Christoph's. Gilbert was silent on the matter.

"Gilbert, you're the new head of the Germanic family," Lili said. "Whether you like it or not."

"This war will tear our family apart," Gilbert hissed. "So choose your place."

He slammed the door behind him, leaving the family to wonder what he would do.

* * *

**(1) German sausage**

**(2) Daddy**

**(3) asses**

**(4) no**

**(5) The Devil is in the details. (A popular German saying meaning that the answer lies in the question, etc., use your own interpretation.)**

**Hi everyone! Sorry for not posting for a while :( I've been super busy! ****Thanks for following Wyn so long!**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, the next will definitely be interesting. I need some reviews! **

**I WILL ONLY POST THE NEXT CHAPTER AFTER SOMEONE REVIEWS FOR ME! **

**I ONLY NEED ONE WITH SOME CRITICISM! (aka more than 2 sentences) I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!**

**R&R PLEASE!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Happier for Both of Us

War. A word uttered with a passion in the Germanic household, perhaps in hate or love or simply the exhilaration it brought.

Of all the siblings Gilbert could have brought with him to the peace talks, he chose Wyn.

Wyn knocked on his door, dressed in her best waistcoat trimmed with gold. Epaulets and tassels and braid dripped from her plumed tricorn hat, which was freshly pressed, and she had decided on long black pants instead of shorts, which Vash nodded his approval at. Her heeled white leather boots only came up to her knees this time, and were shiny new.

"Gilbert! I'm coming in!" Wyn yelled before opening the door. She covered her mouth in shock when she saw his limp body on the floor, bottles of beer surrounding him.

She immediately knelt next to him, glancing at the clock standing by his bookshelf. 9:15. She had 45 minutes to deal with him, make him presentable and hopefully a little scary to the enemy.

She wrapped his arm around her shoulders, dragging him to the bathroom. "You _arschloch_ (1)! Why did you have to get drunk last night, of all nights?! Were you trying to kill yourself?!"

Wyn delivered an uppercut to his jugular and Gilbert's eyes flew open. Wyn stumbled out of his way fast enough for him to grab the sides of the toilet and hurl his dinner and all the alcohol into the toilet bowl. There was blood as well.

"Gilbert!" she exclaimed. _I didn't hurt him, did I? Please, Gott, no…_

He coughed, standing, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at her with dark crimson eyes, bloodshot, full of fury, and his pallid skin was paler than usual, giving him an appearance of wasting away. "So you sat back and watched this time, _frau_ (2)?"

Wyn slapped him across the face and he took a short breath, turning to puke another round. She refused to pity him this time, the drunkard. She crossed her arms.

"So where were you?" he demanded as he looked at her face. In her fury, she was beautiful. _She's perfect. I can't give her up,_ he thought desperately.

He choked as he dry heaved the next time, and Wyn knew he really had drunk more than usual.

"Gilbert?" she said softly, rubbing his back. "You okay?"

"I never have hangovers," he muttered. He dry heaved a last time before he slumped against the wall, eyes half-closed. He was breathing hard, and Wyn wished she had Günther with her for situations like this.

Wyn knelt next to him, brushing the hair from his forehead. Though slick with sweat, his white hair was silky soft. She wanted to run her hands through it, kiss him on the forehead…

"Gilbert, if you could please drag your _arsch_ to the chair by the washbasin, I'll clean you up," she murmured. "We have to get to that meeting. Please."

Hearing her voice through his killer headache was a moment of peace for Gilbert. His head felt like a broken mirror was working its way through it, jaggedly slicing through. How could he get to the peace talks like this?

Wyn's arm went under his left and he stumbled the best he could with her to the washbasin, where a clean set of towels and hot water lay. Gilbert wanted to just dunk his head in, and felt helpless as he slumped into the chaise.

Wyn took the smallest towel and immersed it in the hot water, squeezing it out before placing it over Gilbert's eyes. He sighed at the warmth as she used the corner of another towel to wash his neck and the rest of his face.

He heard a drawer being opened, and the towel was yanked abruptly off his eyes. He opened them, and Wyn stood over him with an ironed white shirt with ruffles and another, larger hot towel. She held it out like a weapon, thrusting it at him.

Wyn grinned. "Strip, Gil, or we'll be late."

Her playful demeanor had returned, and Gilbert couldn't resist a smile, even though it felt like someone had taken a knife to his face.

"You couldn't resist mein awesomeness or mein body, could you, Wyn?" Gilbert said cockily, slowly lifting his dirty shirt over his head. Whether it was out of pain or out of his teasing nature, Wyn didn't know.

Wyn threw the large towel over him, its dampness and heat helping him ease out the cold of his drafty bedroom. He looked to her for his shirt, and he motioned for him to stand. "You'll probably get the buttons wrong," she said with a violent blush. "Let me do them."

"Whatever pleases you, _frau_," he said, slipping his arms into the silk.

She shot him a dirty look. With a calculated tone, she stared at his chest while her long fingers slipped the buttons into their right places. _Do I love Gilbert? As a brother, or as a lover?_ Wyn asked herself silently while she buttoned his shirt. She felt absolutely helpless, cowardly, petty and useless.

Wyn looked at Gilbert again, and he gave her a pained smile, lips curving just slightly. Her heart ached to touch his lips, to wipe the creases and pains and worries from his face.

_I do, don't I?_

She grabbed a waiting pair of shot glasses from the top of his dresser, and poured amber liquid from a glass decanter into both. She ignored the fact that his shirt was only half-buttoned; she needed a drink to clear her mind, a bad habit she had picked up from none other than Gilbert.

She held one out to Gilbert, who whined, "What the hell is that?"

"Scotch. Whiskey, stronger stuff," she remarked coldly.

"My shirt is still half unbuttoned. You're German, and should be drinking beer," he replied. "Where do you get this stuff anyways?"

"Allistor Kirkland gives me a part of his best stash every year for _mein_ birthday," Wyn explained, pouring another for her nerves. She didn't want to admit to Gilbert, of all people, that the charming Scot liked to flirt with her at the pub on the third Saturday of each month. "His little brothers are adorable."

"Scotland? How do you know him?!" Gilbert sputtered and reached for the decanter. Wyn slapped his hand away.

"He's _mein freund_ (3) and _mein_ drinking partner," Wyn said, setting her glass down with a bad taste in her mouth. "Now sit down. I'll finish your buttons. Feel better now?"

Wyn's greatest fear was that he only thought of her as a foolish sister.

"_Ja,_ thanks you you, _frau_," he grinned, collapsing into the chaise once more. "_I'll_ be your drinking partner next time."

"Don't you _frau_ me," Wyn sat next to him, buttoning his shirt.

_I'm going to lose her,_ Gilbert remembered. _That's the only reason why they're here. I might as well do it anyways._

Wyn's long fingers brushed against his abdomen as she almost finished with the buttons. Gilbert pulled her onto his lap, holding her waist tightly. He buried his face into her neck, breathing in her perfume of black iris, red poppy, and cypress, the tree of death.

Wyn froze, unmoving, her hands by her sides. Gilbert smelled strongly of beer and her whiskey, but under that was a light layer of exotic sandalwood, oleander, and pine. She felt his fingers tangle and comb through her straightened hair.

She hated this feeling, of not knowing how to react. "Gilbert," she said softly. _I want to lean into your embrace. I don't want to leave or let go. _

"A girl like you is a confusing set of questions and answers (4)," he murmured, kissing her earlobe. His warm breath was a mist in her ear, and Wyn shuddered. "I can't let you go, Wyn. You know that's the price they'll name for peace."

Wyn sighed before hardening her resolve. _There can't be a future between us,_ she realized. _Not with Roderich and Feliks and Alistair and who knows who else meddling in between. The requirements for us to be able to love are too steep. They are odds that can't be met, and I can't let Gilbert live his life waiting for those conditions to come from out of nowhere. _

She wriggled out of his grasp, shooting to her feet. With a great sigh, Gilbert put his head in his hands. _I did it wrong, I saw it wrong. It won't be this way._

Wyn walked calmly out of the room, and Roderich was waiting at the door, a look of pity in his eyes. Their violet shade was cold and hard.

"You saw that?" Wyn muttered halfheartedly.

Roderich nodded. "You won't have him?"

Wyn blinked in surprise, willing her tears to dry away. "I can't."

"I'll claim you after Feliks does," he whispered in her ear. She shuddered, remembering Gilbert's lips there.

"Alright," Wyn said weakly as Roderich wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead. She trembled, wishing she could slap him, kill him there. But then, she wouldn't have a way back to Gilbert. At least she would be able to see him happy, the only way she wanted to ever see him. "But you have to promise me two things."

"Anything, _liebe_ (5)," Roderich said, mouth in her hair. Wyn felt violated, tortured, murderous thoughts wandering through her mind.

"The first is that you won't hurt Gilbert," she said softly. "Don't threaten him with war or provoke him into it. He's hurt inside, and I want him to be happy."

Roderich grunted as he ran his hands absently along her abdomen, making her shudder.

"The second is that you don't hurt or fight anyone in this family."

Roderich turned her by her shoulders to face him. "And what will you give me? What's worth so much that I'd be willing to agree to these drastic terms?"

"I'll be yours. My land, my people, my money," Wyn said hoarsely.

Roderich gave her a thin smile. "It'll be done, on my honor."

He sealed their pact with a firm kiss on Wyn's mouth. When he pulled away, Wyn felt hollow inside, cold and alone, trapped in a pit of her own design.

* * *

Gilbert refused to look at Wyn as they walked side by side to the agreed meeting spot. They wore their weapons proudly, and handed them to the two countries that had agreed to oversee the peace of the meeting: France and Spain.

Wyn heard Feliks' sharp intake of breath before Toris' sigh when she entered the small pavilion. Gilbert grunted in response, and Wyn struggled to keep a straight face when she saw them.

Both Feliks and Toris were standing. Her instincts took over to analyze the situation. By standing, they had indicated nervousness towards the meeting. Toris, though Wyn didn't know him, had an expression full of fear- whether it was normal or not, they looked like cornered animals.

Gilbert threw himself into a plush chair, legs crossed and slung over the arm of the chair. _A relaxed position, an attempt to assert authority before the situation turns into one in the enemy's favor,_ Wyn thought. She lowered herself slowly into a chair, crossing her legs.

"You're here to fight? Let's have at it. What angers you so much that you haul your _arsches _as well as the _arsches _of forty thousand men, plus the thirty-five thousand of Lithuania's?" Gilbert demanded. Feliks' eyebrows narrowed into sharp angles above his sharp green eyes.

"I made a promise to reclaim Silesia, all those years ago when you kidnapped her from my home," Feliks snarled, flipping his straight blond hair. "And that was so. Not. Cool."

"That would be my _bruder_," Gilbert said obnoxiously. "You killed my other _bruder_ as well as my _vater_ in your raid days ago. That calls for vengeance."

"Which is why _I _ am also here," Feliks said furiously.

"Wyn, _liebling,_ (6)" Gilbert beckoned her with his voice. She saw Feliks' expression become redder with his casual use of the word.

"What?" she snapped, not moving.

"We'll withdraw our troops if you give Silesia to Polish rule once more," Toris summed up for Feliks, who was too angered to speak.

"Well, I'm not giving her back to you," Gilbert snickered.

"No. I'm going with them," Wyn spoke. _There's nothing left for me here anyways. I leave you knowing that you'll be happier without me._

"You are not," he growled.

"You said so yourself that war would tear us all apart. I'm leaving. Günther may have been able to hold us together, but you can't, Gilbert," she said. She moved over to stand with Feliks and Toris.

Pure outrage was painted on Gilbert's face, but in his eyes, Wyn could only see pain. _I want to see you the only way I know you,_ she cried out inside. _Happy. You can be so much more than this._

His eyes were giving up the fight.

"Antonio, Francis," he shouted for France and Spain, who rushed in. In their hands were a rapier and a huge axe, and Antonio tossed Gilbert's sword to him.

Wyn realized what was happening and shoved Feliks and Toris towards the forest. "Run!"

As they ran towards the safety of the Polish and Lithuanian lines, Wyn was sobbing inside. _I'm running away from you, with every step I take, and each becomes a mile away from us. _

_But I'm strong enough to survive on my own now, and I will see you again._

* * *

**(1) asshole**

**(2) fraulein – wife, sister, girlfriend**

**(3) my friend**

**(4) I don't own B.A.P.'s Rain Sound! It's just one of my favorite songs ever :D**

**(5) Love**

**(6) Darling**

**I am so sorry for the delay! But Spring Break's next week, I'll try to get some more chapters in, promise! :D Please follow, R&R, like, etc.! Hope you enjoyed this really long chapter...**


	9. Chapter 9 - Don't Fight Over Me (NOTE)

"Wyn," Feliks turned to her with a sparkle in his green eyes. He was taller than her by barely an inch now. His arms circled around her, crushing her into an embrace. Silver droplets ran down his face, and he smelled of red poppies, wakening a memory from Wyn's childhood.

_I know you._

"Feliks…big brother…" Wyn stammered. Rushes of memory flew past her, scents and sounds and scenery mixing into one. She remembered his cries of agony as she was taken away, the matching skirts he made for them to wear for _Wianki_, the Midsummer festival. She felt the wreath of herbs in her hands that day as she and Feliks pushed it down the river.

_Feliks smiled, ruffling Wyn's hair. "It held. You're going to meet someone important and rich and handsome, and marry him one day."_

"_Yeah right," Wyn pouted, knowing he was a tease._

"_We'll see. And I'll make you a _fabulous _wedding dress, the best there ever was!"_

Toris blushed as he interrupted their reunion. "The scouts report a force of eighty thousand men marching here right now, led by Prussia. They include troops from Austria and Switzerland as well. I haven't seen any other German nations helping them."

Feliks released Wyn, looking her over. "We'd better get you a sword, otherwise we'll have no one to defend me."

"Who said I was defending you?" Wyn muttered in fake astonishment. She whacked Feliks on his arm, and he smirked in reply.

"From now on, we fight together," Feliks proclaimed, slinging an arm around both of the nations.

* * *

"Don't let this scum take our land!" Gilbert yelled to his troops, rousing them. The soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder in strict formations, in proud Prussian blue, uniforms mirroring Gilbert's. They stood next to brothers, cousins, distant relatives from Austria, Switzerland, Hesse, Sweden, and Liechtenstein. Far behind the miles of armies were concealed Spanish and French troops to complete this fight to reclaim Silesia, Gilbert's only love.

Gilbert felt the exhilaration and adrenaline sweep through him like an ocean, when his troops rallied in response. "Let us take up arms for the honor, glory, and preservation of German lands!"

"_Heil!_" the armies rumbled in response.

Gilbert grinned, unsheathing his saber. It was well-balanced, long and tapered, wickedly sharp. "For _Königreich Preußen _(1),and all free German lands!"

The soldiers cheered in response, and a few surprised murmurs erupted. _Königreich Preußen? _For the first time in history, Gilbert had declared that the Holy Roman Empire was done, over with. The Kingdom of Prussia was rising; few knew the truth.

_Holy Roman Empire, Germania, they're dead,_ echoed a cry in Gilbert's mind. _But new kingdoms, empires, great nations are rising. Prussia will be among them._

_And you will stand with me._

With that, the first calvary charged with Gilbert towards the Lithuanian and Polish troops, framed by the dawn.

* * *

Wyn turned and ran towards the commanding tent, the generals and officers of the combined Polish and Lithuanian and Silesian troops gathered together.

_There's no one I know better than you, Gilbert,_ she said to herself in her mind. _If you let me go, you can save countless lives._

_I love you with everything I have and more. Don't kill for me. Let me go._

Wyn felt sick as she told the troops of his battle tactics, how he would charge first and then use his reserves to attack from the side. _You're sending them to be murdered. Turn back, please, turn back._

"Thank you, General Meier," the head of the Polish army said when she was done describing his tactics. He saluted her, looking uneasy about it. He'd probably never saluted a woman in his life.

Wyn nodded, swinging herself onto her waiting mare. The mare was silver maned and pearly white, resembling herself well, she thought.

She rode out to the front lines, where soldiers stood waiting for the strike of the Germanic nations.

"My people!" she shouted, brandishing her rapier. "With the dawn comes a cry for independence, to return with our family of Poland. While we have been under the Germans, we have forgotten those who raised us. Let us join once more with our roots in Poland. We fight for independence!"

The troops were roused, crying out in their colors of black and white, trimmed with gold. _Not Prussian blue anymore,_ Wyn thought. _New colors for a new life, one without Prussia or Germania or the Holy Roman Empire._ They stood small within the wave of red and white of Poland and the green, red, and gold of Lithuania.

With the dawn came the charge they were waiting for. "Follow me!" Wyn cried, and led her Silesian troops among the trees for cover. The red and white troops moved in unison with the Lithuanian armies, moving forward to meet the Prussian blue.

"No!" she whispered as she saw the flash of white hair on a jet-black horse leading the charge of the Prussians. Swords clanged as the metal met in sparks, and the foot soldiers began to march forward.

"Gilbert!" her voice echoed through the fields, full of rage and longing and desperation. She had to lead her men though; she couldn't betray Feliks or Toris. "For Silesia!"

She spurred her mare into a gallop, meeting the foot soldiers adorned in proud Prussian blue with her sword. _I don't want to turn against you, I never wanted to,_ she cried inside. As quickly as they had appeared, the soldiers in black and white, Silesian troops, had wiped out half of the Prussian foot soldiers.

"Hear our cry for freedom!" a Silesian soldier shouted, and the troops took up the call. Wyn shouted, urging her horse forward when a spear flew past her horse, who whinnied and bucked in fear. Wyn flew off, spitting in the dirt, when a Prussian rushed at her.

Comforted by the feeling that mortals couldn't have, Wyn knew she couldn't die. She slashed with her new rapier, trying to compensate for the unfamiliar weight in her hand. Her own was with Francis, when she had last saw it.

Ruby eyes met her iridescent ones, and Wyn almost dropped her sword in fear and shock. _How did he know she was on the battlefield? _She gripped the bloody handle harder, trying to lose herself in the bloodshed. Prussian soldiers were falling left and right, in a sea of blood she began to wade in. But her own people were dying, and Gilbert fought his way towards her with a fury that she backed away from.

_Don't find me, don't look for me; the last, last, last image of me in front of you, remember that, don't forget me._ (2) Wyn said in her mind. She was determined to fight in the direction away from Gilbert. She parried a strong strike from a soldier in Austrian white and purple, and dreaded the moment she would find Roderich.

An arm wrapped around her waist, hoisting her over a tall shoulder. She smelled his sweat and the labored breaths he took to kidnap her.

"Roderich!" Wyn gasped between breaths. "How are we going to get out without starting a civil war?"

"I have it all planned, _katzchen_ (3)," he said. The two of them disappeared behind the advancing Austrians, and Roderich jumped onto his bay gelding. Wyn grasped his waist behind him, and he handed her a familiar belt and sheathed sword.

"You got this for me?" Wyn asked in disbelief. Roderich didn't answer, and with a signal, the Austrian troops formed a vanguard. They rode east, towards the rising sun, and the Prussian, Swedish, Swiss, and Liechtensteiner cries of "traitor!" "turncoat!" and the worst, "coward!" echoing after them as both sides drifted in a sea of blood.

_If only you had let me go, you would have stopped all this bloodshed,_ Wyn thought sadly. Most of her troops had known some way or other that they would be taken by Austria; she had spread it enough, but the others that had stayed were slaughtered.

_You shouldn't fight over me._

* * *

**(1) Kingdom of Prussia**

**(2) Monster by Big Bang**

**(3) kitten**

**Hope you enjoyed this medium-sized chapter :) Lots of angst and action coming up! Please follow, like, R&R, as usual! Next chapter will be out asap!**

**READ AND REVIEW TO PASS THE TIME, PLEASE!**

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: MUST READ NOW!**_

Hello everyone,

Thank you so much for bearing with me and reading so far! I'm really proud of what I have as of now. So basically, I'm thinking of stretching this into the Silesia Trilogy- crappy name, I know, if you have a better one then PM me…but I feel that there are so many events to cover that I won't finish it within one fanfic.

I really want to write a lot, describe, (and agitate) and not overwhelm my lovely readers! So this announcement is to say that Undoubtedly will draw to a close within 5~10 chapters…depends how much I stretch it. It's a lot of words for one person to commit to, especially with the increase of homework and studying I will be doing soon. And I WILL be off most of the summer :( But i will try!

I want to maintain the highest quality of writing so I will be releasing two more fanfictions to follow, with different covers (! I love making them!), titled

~Jaded

~Eternity

These fanfictions will follow the course of events in Wyn's lifetime, from after much of her childhood into the Age of Pirates and finally the Modern Era (which includes WWI and WWII). Wyn will find that there are many other suitors among the nations vying for her hand, and there will definitely be suspense, love, action, war, and all that other good stuff that comes with it. Some characters I have in mind are (and please don't murder me, but feel free to vote and comment! I read all reviews :) )

Naturally, here I would like to mention that Jaded and Eternity WILL have smut and rated M stuff, but I will leave an alternate ending to those who are too young, because I feel that the story will BENEFIT from it, not just because that stuff is fun to read... O.o And Wyn WILL end up with Gilbert/Prussia, no changing that.

~Scotland (already mentioned, we'll see how it turns out…)

~Netherlands

~Denmark (on the fence with him, yes or no?)

Hopefully you will continue to follow my writing, and I hope you all will be pleased with the end result! Feel free to PM me with your thoughts and opinions, votes and whatnot, I'm on FF all the time. And I love talking to people.

~Lauren and Wyn


	10. Chapter 10 - Like A Darkened Flower

Roderich lifted his hands from the piano, stopping abruptly in the middle of Beethoven's _F__ü__r Elise._ He looked at the empty sofa he'd had moved to his practice room and then to the savage beauty that stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, like a caged animal. One that he had caught. "I can't concentrate with you here. Stay and listen or get out."

Wyn was looking out the window wistfully, thinking. So much had happened; she didn't have time to slow down and think except for when Roderich ordered her to sit for his hours of practice and performance. She turned to the Austrian, fury in her eyes. "I'd love to get out, but of course, I can't," she snapped.

Wyn had been stripped of her sword and all her familiar belongings, what little she had from the battle, and was stuffed into the stiff dark purple and pale lilac crêpe gown that restricted her, even up to her neck. The lace edging on her sleeves were _seven inches long._ Seven! He wanted her to look expensive and well-cared for, nothing like before. She was caged in from the outside, a silent witness to Roderich's endless hours of music and the turning of the seasons.

She stormed down the hall to the kitchen, hoping to find _wurst_ (1), which he obviously didn't have, but it was her excuse to get out of the performance where she was expected to sit and "appreciate" the fine arts. _Pah, fine arts,_ Wyn thought murderously. But _wurst_ was the one dish that was German, strictly German, which tied her to Gilbert and the Germanic family.

Roderich couldn't cook for the sake of his life; she had found that out within the first hours of her arrival at his manor. Even Alistair's disgusting haggis (2) was preferable to Roderich's imitation of a fried egg, which strongly resembled, well, shit. The only thing he could actually cook was _sachertorte_ (3), and Wyn was sick of it. Did it even count as cooking? That was baking, not cooking, right? Naturally, Wyn took on a position of housekeeping and cooking to occupy her time, but she hated it slightly less than Roderich himself.

Roderich had also insisted that she wear her free-flowing silver curls in a "fashionable" knot with a bonnet or wide-brimmed hat trimmed with edelweiss, his favorite flower, whenever she wasn't sleeping! He'd even sent a hairdresser to her room every day, accompanied by a train of maids to dress her. She was a puppet, and every time she wanted to hurt him, punch him, kill him, he gave her a kiss and reminded her of their agreement.

_The arschloch._

She hated him for everything, and at night, when she was alone, Wyn would pray to any _gott_ that listened to protect Gilbert and let her live another day.

* * *

Wyn had no contact with the outside world at Schönbrunn Palace, where her days were filled with music and sewing and all tedious housewifery, all which didn't suit her. She began to see her immortality as a curse, and wished she, like any other human, could end her own life. That would be the only choice she could make herself.

It was early May when her usual schedule broke from its tedious, calculated routine. It started early in the morning, when the maids entered her room, scurrying around like rats, with their sharp Austrian noses and hoity-toity ways. They were cautious to gossip in low voices, lest she throw something sharp their way or be fired. But either way, they found ways to torture her.

Wyn was roused by the head chambermaid, who shook her awake. She blinked in the bright light from the open windows. The other maids, more than a dozen of them, were already straightening her room, gossiping in their Austrian dialect of German. She could hear her nicknames within their colorful dialogue- "Prussian bitch", "Edelstein's woman" among them.

Wyn scowled but didn't say anything, knowing full well how the maids could twist anything she said. With a grunt, the chambermaid heaved a half-eaten tray of breakfast onto her lap, as usual.

"Master Edelstein wants you dressed up twice as fancy today," she cackled. "Something important. Which means half the time to eat."

With that, she snatched a scone off of Wyn's plate, and Wyn growled deep in her throat, shoveling eggs, tasteless sausage, and a miniature fish pie down her throat. As she drank the strong black tea, she listened to her maids' gossip, hoping to catch some detail about the outside world.

"Another bitch arriving today," one muttered. "Hope she's not high-maintenance."

"Hungarian, they say," another said. "But straight from Prussia."

Wyn's breath caught in her throat. _Gilbert_. She hadn't heard from or about any of her family or friends since her arrival at Schönbrunn, where she was sheltered from the world. Who was coming? She knew of no other girls her age, or any countries, except Lili.

"Get up," the maid-of-the-robe ordered Wyn. She was a thin woman, with sharp lines etching her plain face. Wyn got up, pushing her tray away, and the other maids immediately pounced on her leftovers.

She was pushed to the ivory robing room, where more layers of skirts had been laid out than she had ever worn or seen. They were, as always, in shades of dark purple, ivory, and lace, colors of Austria.

The maids ripped off her nightgown, leaving Wyn in her chemise. They slipped two layers of stiff petticoats on her silently, to create the illusion of perfectly puffed skirts. Then came the garters, stockings, and violet heels that regularly tortured her with their pinching. The first underskirt, rimmed with expensive Spanish convent lace, went over the petticoats, then another ivory silk one, slightly shorter, went over the lace one. Wyn smirked at the thought of Roderich married to Antonio, even if it was only for a short time.

The maids snickered at her discomfort when they pulled her stays tight, far tighter than she usually had them. They jeered at her, saying they had smaller waists than her without wearing corsets! Wyn snarled but held firm as they laced her into the top layer of the dress, a garish dark purple satin and crêpe-flowered horror. The train was three feet long, and Wyn knew it was meant to hinder and break her.

Her hair was similarly treated, but all Wyn could think about was the prospect of seeing Gilbert again. She hadn't seen him for over four years, and her people had been under Austrian control for four centuries.

_How would he react when he sees me like this?_ she wondered. Then she saw what the hairdressing maids were doing to her hair- dying it raven black, and hiding it under an elaborate hat. How would he recognize her like this?

Wyn was powdered and rouged, so much that she resembled a cheap whore. Her mind was spinning, thinking, trying to piece it together.

_What is your motive here, Roderich?_

_What games are you playing this time?_

* * *

Wyn had to keep herself from crying out when she saw the couple that entered from the floor-to-ceiling doors at the other end of the throne room. She stood beside Roderich's throne, like some begging whore, the part she was instructed to play.

"_You'll do it right, or I'll have to threaten and visit you, just like in your role," he'd said with a smirk._

"Gilbert, _bruder_," Roderich said mockingly. "I missed you for all these years. What have you been up to, oh mighty conqueror? What have you brought me this time?"

"I came to do business," Gilbert proclaimed. Wyn was cold inside, sick to her stomach when she saw him leading the girl by the hand.

The girl had beautiful elfin features, delicate but refined and poised. She had a definite air of confidence, but was timid before Roderich. Her dark auburn hair fell in waves around her face, and she wore a dress the color of dark summer leaves to match her eyes. A pink camellia was perched in the hair above her right ear.

"Interesting. Over what?" Wyn heard Roderich say. She saw that Gilbert was even taller now, sterner maybe, with more responsibility. He was easily 6'1'', asserting dominance over Roderich. His shoulders were wider and his white hair was tousled. Wyn longed to run her hands through it, remembering its softness the day she had left, and the war that commenced. He had a new black Iron Cross in place of lace on his shirt.

_Did _she_ iron that for you? _Wyn could see herself accusing him. _Was I so easy to forget?_

"I want Silesia back, and I'm willing to trade a larger territory for it," Gilbert said. Wyn felt her heart lift, but pushed it back down, remembering her promise. _This isn't the Gilbert I remember,_ she thought, but waited for him to continue. "This is Elizaveta Héderváry, the country of Hungary."

His eyes searched Roderich's expressions and landed on hers for a split second. Wyn wanted to run to his arms, fling herself upon his awesomeness and laugh. Then she noticed the small yellow ball on his shoulder, asleep.

_Gilbird!_

_Please wake up and recognize me,_ Wyn prayed. _Let him know I'm here._

Roderich pretended to think, and when he spoke, Wyn knew he was lying. To some extent. _You scheming, worthless bastard!_ "Alright. I'll so it. Bring her in!"

On his signal, to Wyn's bewilderment, the side doors of the grandiose room flew open, and a stunning woman walked in, wearing Wyn's old, familiar, torn coat over an ivory dress. Wyn's sword was buckled at her waist, and Poppy – _Poppy!_ – was drugged and sitting stupidly on her shoulder.

_The ivory skirt should be a giveaway, _Wyn cried out in her mind. But maybe Gilbert had forgotten. She also noticed the unnatural streaks in the woman's white hair. _It's dyed!_

But otherwise, the woman bore a striking resemblance to Wyn, even though she was far more beautiful, with a demure smile and flashing eyes.

What broke her heart, though, was Gilbert's reaction.

He ran forward, grabbing her waist, and spun her in a circle. His face was radiant, happier than Wyn had ever seen him, lit up with a grin. "Wyn…"

If that wasn't enough, he kissed the woman passionately. Wyn stood, watching, and the lump in her throat grew. Her heart stopped pounding, and she felt what seemed to be splinters in her chest, burning their way through her. She choked on a sob, only to be roughly grabbed by Roderich. "Now, now, you were doing so well. Keep up the act or else-"

"Who's she?" Gilbert's voice cut in. His arm was around the woman's waist, and Wyn forced herself not to look into his eyes. Elizaveta was quietly waiting behind the couple, clearly not understanding German.

"Oh, just another whore," Roderich said nonchalantly.

"Is she actually _crying_?" the woman mocked. _Oh, Gott, she's been studying how to imitate me,_ Wyn realized. _But her accent is wrong. Please, please see that, Gilbert._

"She's just moved by your joyful reunion," Roderich caressed Wyn's cheek. "Aren't you, Analiese?"

He was referring to Wyn, and she realized tears were falling down her cheeks, leaving white trails behind. She forced herself to nod, feeling every movement as a breaking of her body and soul.

Wyn didn't remember what happened next, only that she was replaced. Numb, she saw them leave, his arm never leaving the woman's body, eyes never leaving her face. _Isn't this what you wanted? To see him happy, to remember him that way? Wasn't that the reason that you live like a slave now, without freedom, oppressed, alone in a foreign land? _Wyn scolded herself.

But another part echoed, _if you don't know me, if I'm that easily replaced by an imposter, how can I love you?_

_Like a darkened flower, without you, I just keep saying it's painful, sad, alone. _

_I am slowly dying, but you're not here _

_Anymore, anymore, anymore. _(4)

* * *

**(1) German sausage**

**(2) Austrian chocolate cake**

**(3) Scottish savory pudding made from the offal or pluck of a sheep or goat (lungs, liver, heart) with seasoning and spices**

**(4) Gone, Not Around Any Longer by SISTAR19**

**Whew, a long, heartbreaking chapter... :'( Hope you're crying, jk ;) I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, as much as I cried writing it, but the PLOT TWISTS! The depth of character! Heart wrenching. **

**As usual, I'll be writing as much as possible! Remember to READ AND REVIEW! I can't wait to see where it keeps going...**

**Also, don't miss out on _In Essence_, a post-Wyn Trilogy fanfic! Look for it on my profile and on FF, please R&R that too!**

**NOW READ AND REVIEW! R&R!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Foolish Me

Roderich dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Wyn was glad to be out of his sight, but could barely walk without her knees buckling. Inside, she was broken; bits and pieces of her childhood flew past her glassy eyes, and her heart ceased to beat inside her chest.

Wyn pushed the doors of her apartment open, screaming at the maids to get out. She didn't see their haughty, dirty looks at the mess of color and powders streaming freely down her face. When they had exited, she slammed the doors shut as hard as she could, piling chairs and furniture against it, creating a barrier that holed her in.

_No one will see me, _she vowed. _If I die alone, then I will. I want to die now._

Wyn threw herself on her bed, sobbing. Even with her eyes closed, she could see Gilbert's face lighting in joy, in excitement, in love for another woman.

_How can one person break another so easily?! _Wyn screamed in her head. _Why can't I die to end this pain?!_

* * *

_Wyn's arrow flew from her steady hands, splitting Holy Roman Empire's down the middle._

His eyes gleamed and grew large, luminous. "I won't ever doubt your abilities again," he vowed.

Watching their competition, Gilbert gave the defiant girl a half-smile. Her ability and stubbornness was admirable, comparable to even _his_ awesome skills. Lili cheered her on, Vash grunting approval and Berwald giving a rare smile to the new member of the family.

_Christoph stood protectively in front of a trembling Wyn, yelling at Roderich._

"How many times have I told you to stay away from my sister?! You leech, don't you even back off?!" he bellowed. Roderich only stepped closer to his large figure.

"She's fifteen, by _Gott_! Is that not old enough to secure her feelings?! How long must she wait under your brotherly arms, or are you just jealous? Belgium can't even see Spain anymore because of her brother!" Roderich yelled.

"I told you that you can have any woman but her, you _arschloch_," Christoph spat. "Back off or I'll split your skull. My sister has no feelings for you whatsoever."

"Your country is so much smaller, so insignificant compared to mine," Roderich declared. "One way or another, she'll be mine."

"You're sick and twisted," the country of Hesse said in a low voice. "Leave."

Roderich gave Wyn a leering smile before exiting. Then Christoph crushed her in an embrace.

"_Katzchen_, stay close to me. If you ignore him, he'll go away. We have to stay together; we're Meiers, not Beilschmidts. And certainly we have no connection to Edelstein. Family matters the most when we cannot say when we'll fade away as countries."

Wyn held those words of her brother close to her heart, fearful of Roderich's passion and his determination.

_Vash's fingers brushed gently against Wyn's as they picked flowers with Lili._

"Poppies," he identified them. "Did you ever see them in Poland?"

"Yes," Wyn said with uncertainty. "They were red, I think. With some sort of meaning."

"You don't remember anymore?"

"No…I-I feel like I should, but…my people may be forgetting."

Vash looked at her with pity but also a rare tenderness in his spring green eyes. He held her hand and squeezed it. "If it was meant to be, it'll stay like that, but in the meantime, you should make new memories, and don't dwell on the past."

_Berwald steered her movements with his large hands._

"Gently. _Wurst_ isn't your enemy, it's supposed to be a gentle, loving comfort food," he said.

Wyn jerked her spatula at the _wurst_ that was frying on the pan, its spiced aromas wafting into her nose. "I can't do this! It's impossible!"

"Yes you can. Loosen your shoulders. Imagine you're dancing with a handsome, graceful partner, in swirls and weaving through other couples. You can hear harps and cellos in the background," Berwald coaxed. He was impossibly patient with the younger girl. "That's better."

Wyn stirred the sizzling sausages with less bravado as Berwald slowly took his hands away.

"_Gut!_ (1) Now you see how it's beginning to char? Because the other side is done, we'll put it on the plates," Berwald motioned to the nine plates laden with perfectly crunchy French beans in a lemon reduction, gravy made from the drippings of the sausages combined with rosemary and a splash of beer, and a cloud of soft mashed potatoes. He sipped his tankard of beer and oversaw her work.

Wyn slowly lowered a trio of _wurst_ onto each plate, pleased with her result. Both of the countries piled plates on their arms as they prepared to serve their family dinner. They glided into the grand dining room with high ceilings and ornate trim. A fire was laughing in the fireplace, echoing the real ones from the Germanic family, where chestnuts were roasting, filling the room with a buttery smell.

The pair served the waiting family, whose shock had registered on their faces. _Wyn could cook?!_

As Berwald went back to the kitchen to get tankards of beer for those old enough to drink, Wyn slowly set down the last plate in front of Gilbert.

Their eyes connected, and somewhere in their dark red midst, Gilbert had a soft "_Danke_" (2) for Wyn's quiet care.

_Lili handed a bolt of Prussian blue cloth to Wyn._

"You've outgrown practically all your clothes, even though I've let them out and even added fabric. You come here almost as much as the boys!" Lili exclaimed. "But everyone knows they're going through puberty, so not much can be done about that. Tell me if you like it."

Wyn didn't know how to judge material, but she ran her hands over it. She felt the thick, even weave and its lightness. It was warm and soft, but durable, everything she looked for in a set of clothes. "I don't want a dress, though," she said, biting her lip.

Lili shrugged. "I can modify the boys' patterns to fit you. I can probably transform it into something more sophisticated, more you, something stylish! I'll make it more feminine! I think I've got some good ideas!"

"Feminine? You mean girly? No way!"

"I mean enhancing your shape, not frilly tutus and such. Trust me, you'll like it."

"It'd better be really _gut_," Wyn grumbled. She was eager to get out of the stuffy sewing room that Lili had shoved her into.

"But tell me, what kind of style do you want? I can make any of the boys' styles, but I can't draw up new ones for you yet. I don't have the time these days…"

"Like who?"

"Your pick of Berwald, Roderich,-" Lili looked at Wyn anxiously, "Vash, Christoph, and Holy Roman Empire's styles. And Gilbert's too if that's what you really want."

"Gilbert's." She had said it without thinking, without hesitation.

"Alright. His cloaks and coats are gorgeous, aren't they? I think I'll start right away: you're going to look great!"

* * *

Bits of food arrived every other hour, somehow slipped through the pets' hole in the door. As enticing as some of the meals seemed, Wyn couldn't bring herself to eat. The third day, Roderich even sent _wurst_, but it only reminded her of Gilbert, with his cunning eyes and mischievous smile. _Gilbert_ is_ happy. Let him think that way…let him stay without you._

"You'll come and eat or I'll blast this door down, _verdammnt!_" Roderich yelled on the fourth day.

Arriving each day with more treats, threats, and taunts, Wyn refused to answer him. And when June began, meals stopped arriving entirely. Wyn was thankful for the cease of commotion, but she was still numb inside.

The month passed without any other disturbances, but in the middle of July, a person squeezed their way in through the tiny hole meant for dogs.

Wyn stared, eyes bloodshot, gaunt and pale at the small figure facing her. The girl was trembling in a soft green dress with a little white apron, holding a steaming plate of fragrant, long wheat noodles in front of her, almost like an offering.

The girl looked almost about to cry, then shoved the plate forward towards Wyn. She looked down at her feet nervously. "Please take this and eat it. Mister Austria has been really worried about you! And he says- says-"

Wyn slowly knelt, as if in a trance, before the girl. "It's okay," she patted her head. "I'm Wyn. Wyn Meier. My country is Silesia. What's your name?"

The girl stopped shaking and gave Wyn a radiant smile. "I'm Chibitalia!"

Wyn's lips turned up slightly, and she took the plate from her. "What's this? I've never seen it before."

"It's pasta, my favorite food! Ve~…"

Wyn studied her luminous eyes as they followed the plate hungrily. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please…wait- Mister Austria told me not to eat it…"

"Have some, and I'll eat the rest."

The girl gulped down half the plate easily, then began trembling again. "Mister Austria told me to tell you-"

"That's enough," Wyn stopped her suddenly. "Thank you, Chibitalia, and tell Roderich to _fuck off_."

The girl's eyes widened and she scurried off.

Wyn stood, straightening the skirt she had not taken off for two months. She would _not_ leave her solace, no matter what he did. Of all the things she had done, this was the one thing she was sure about.

She went to her armoire and selected a thin blue and silver gown. It wasn't Prussian blue, but at least it wasn't the violet that marked her as Austria's property.

_I couldn't figure out your heart since it already left,_

_I held you in my embrace and placed only you in my heart, _

_Foolish Me. _(3)

* * *

**(1) Good!**

**(2) Thank You**

**(3) Foolish Me by MBLAQ (IRIS II OST)**

**OMG, you guys are so LUCKY.**

**I had enough time between meals to finish typing...yay me! Happy now, AngeloftheMusic? :D Admit my awesomeness! Please READ AND REVIEW, I hope you liked this slower chapter. A lot will be happening soon...just you wait! Thanks for supporting my story!**

**Also, please look forward to _Serenity_, a KorTai fanfic I'm writing for my dear friend Stormjade! And make sure you check out _In Essence_, a post-Wyn Trilogy crossover with Harry Potter for you Pottertalia fans!**

**Now, please READ AND REVIEW! :D**


	12. Chapter 12 - Just the Two of Us

**WARNINGS: mentions of drug use,**

**drinking/bars in this chapter**

**READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

* * *

The pattern of interaction between Wyn and Chibitalia stayed the same deep into August, and though the room was often stuffy, Chibitalia made a point to visit her daily between her duties. But whenever the sweet girl mentioned Roderich's intended message to Wyn, she stopped her. Chibitalia ate most of Wyn's meals, and her news and view of the world kept Wyn a little more alive everyday.

"Oh, I wish you'd hear Mister Austria's words for once!" Chibitalia cried out one day. "He's changed so much. He's so kind but busy and he's in love with Miss Hungary!"

Wyn stopped eating and stared at Chibitalia in astonishment. Had her self-punishment finally taught Roderich something? She could hardly dare to hope. In her months of confinement, she had made peace with herself and with her future. She had given up Gilbert; she was content knowing he could be happy, even if she wasn't the one he was happy for or about.

But if he came running back to her...Wyn would refuse him even if the world was ending and they were dying. She had a script, a practiced set of lines, that she had promised herself she would follow.

Maybe it was time for change once more to sweep her world, to stop living in her darkness.

Chibitalia's words gave her hope but could Roderich really be changed by a foreign girl and love?

_You changed for love once,_ Wyn reminded herself. _Even if it was so long ago, why should it be so different for him? Are you so selfish as to deny love to the one who took away yours with such little thought?_

_Yes, that and more,_ Wyn said silently.

"I don't want to hear," Wyn said.

"But you should! Your happiness is the only thing that he wants now, not your love!" And the girl began to cry, voice contorting.

"Come on," Wyn said gruffly, and picked up the girl and began clearing away the fort she had built against the doors. It was time to leave the walls and see her land again; it was a time to be recreated and reborn in this beginning of autumn. It was time to break free and sound the trumpets of war once more.

Wyn made her way briskly through the familiar halls, surprised at the changes Elizaveta had brought. The palace was light and airy, smelling fresh and homey, and glowed with love. Fresh flowers scented each room and were strategically laid out along the halls, and Chibitalia began to giggle, as if she knew a secret.

She leapt down from Wyn's grasp and hurried to a door. "Come on, Wyn, you should meet my friend!"

Wyn grudgingly followed, wondering who it was. Maybe Elizaveta, but certainly not Roderich!

She entered a lavish room trimmed with gold and ivory, and she could hear Chibitalia's gleeful laugh. She followed the sound through a maze of unfamiliar apartments and stopped at the tall doors. They were left slightly open and Chibitalia was inside, laughing with two other familiar voices joining hers in a chorus of soprano, alto, and bass.

Wyn smoothed down the new, light blue silk organza gown, grateful she had changed and readied herself that morning. She couldn't wait to see who they were; friendly faces were what she needed to feed her soul's discomfort after over a year in Roderich's clutches. Bittersweet words formed in her mouth as she wished Gilbert were there, too.

Would they still remember her? Would she still recognize them?

What if they weren't who she thought they were?

She threw the doors open, and her knees buckled with happiness.

Holy Roman Empire was propped up on plush pillows, laughing and bandaged, at what Chibitalia was saying. Wyn never saw him laugh, only saw him as the cruel figurehead of the Germanic family. And on the other side of him, dressed in a radiant scarlet waistcoat and black pants, was someone she loved as much as Gilbert.

"Christoph," Wyn murmured, and began sobbing where she was on the floor.

"_Schwester_, (1)" Christoph rushed to her side, helping her into the sofa that faced Holy Roman Empire's bed. He kissed her on the forehead and wiped her tears with a soft lace-trimmed handkerchief, holding it to her nose and commanding her to blow into it. The motion was a comfort, reminding Wyn of the Germanic family before-

"Günther?" she asked hopefully.

"Dead," Christoph confirmed. The word was a sharp ache, a reminder that those happy times were past. But here was her _bruder_, strong and able and reliable, hair still in a messy ponytail, handsome and holding her. He was almost as good as having Günther, with his comforting presence.

"The others-" Wyn sniffled and tried to breathe as her life began to build itself up again.

"Vash has Lili hidden somewhere. He's really paranoid about keeping her safe," Christoph began. "His weapon development is truly remarkable. So is his security.

"Berwald is on his own. I haven't heard from him in a long time, now that you remind me.

"Gilbert…" Christoph took a long look at his sister, studying her reaction. Should he tell her?

By her somber expression, he decided it might do her some good. But later.

"I've been alright," Christoph confessed. "Just paying my visits and finding information about our family wherever I go."

"Found any girls yet?" Wyn asked, trying to sound lighthearted. "I still can't believe _mein_ handsome _bruder_ is still single!"

The country of Hesse grunted. "I meet girls all the time. But _ja_, I did see one. She was picking up her half-mad older _bruder_ from the opium dens. I shouldn't have been in that part of the city anyways."

He scowled and Wyn slowly smiled. "Their names?"

"Belgium and Netherlands," Christoph snorted. "A beautiful girl with wavy hair glossy like silk, with a will stronger than iron. The brother was wasted. Tall and broad-shouldered, always smoking an opium pipe. Blond hair that sticks up. Both have beautiful ice-green eyes, paler than summer leaves. Named Bella and Lars Morgens. You should know them through Anto-"

He stopped himself from further referring to Wyn's now-hated love. Spain, France, and Prussia were stalwart friends and supporters- an alliance between the three was deadly to their combined enemy.

"Tell us what you've been up to, Wyn," Holy Roman Empire said lightheartedly.

Wyn's face contorted and went hard once more as she faced her siblings. "I was a slave. I was a pawn. I was toyed with and humiliated.

"And I intend to leave."

* * *

Roderich's apologies to Wyn meant nothing to her, just empty words. She yearned for freedom, for a new life. She was eager to leave the fragile alliance formed by Roderich and all those who lived under his wing at Schönbrunn.

But how would she bring around enough conflict to turn the tables?

Wyn had changed; her country and their people had changed as well. She was hungry for revenge, to taste from the pool of death once more. Too long had she been silent. This was what her people called for.

Formulating her plan, Roderich let her leave without a word. Dressed in a variation of her old clothes brought by Christoph, she set out to change fate and her own destiny.

As she stepped into the familiar bar, she knew it had seen better days. The sign of _Seven Promises_ was faded and creaking as she approached her destination.

Wyn was looking for one person in particular, eager to see him. If he still came.

She surveyed the crowded tavern, glad that she wouldn't stand out in this crowd of misfits. She sat in an empty stool by the bar, lifting the hood of her cloak and revealing her silver hair, earning a gasp from many of the guests.

The bartender appeared in front of her, showering her with blessings. "You're a legend, Wyn Meier. My great, great-uncle told me about you. We're very happy to serve you in out humble establishment!"

Wyn's eyes widened. She was gone for over a hundred years in human time. They still remembered her? "I'm glad to hear that," She slowly smiled, "actually, I'm thrilled. Beer for everyone, on _mich_ (2)!"

The crowd eagerly toasted her and the bartenders and maids scurried around, passing drinks to their crowd. Tips were slipped into jingling pockets, and Wyn knew she had done the right thing, judging by the many smiling faces in the room.

An older man, probably a relative of the bartender who had recognized her, was the only one who noticed she had barely sipped her mug of alcohol. "Somethin' wrong, Miss Meier?"

Wyn smiled at the gentleman, grateful for his observational skills. She needed to know if he would come, and it wasn't right for her to pull over any bartender in particular. "No, but I'm waiting for someone. Would you by any chance recognize the usual comers?"

"No one ought to drink alone, anyways," he said matter-of-factly. "Sure I do. We're missing a dozen of the usuals, give or take, this early."

"Do you know a Kirkland in there? Allistor Kirkland?" Wyn pressed him.

"Oh, he's coming," The proprietor said, rolling his eyes. "Can drink more than any of us human boys. Brings a show, too, with that last brother. Never fails to make money from them, alright."

"Thank you," Wyn smiled and pressed a coin in his hand. She had smiled more in this early night than she had in all her years of confinement at Roderich's.

It was only nine, anyways, and the good drinkers wouldn't appear before eleven. Being one herself, Wyn knew the ins and outs of drinking.

She made herself comfortable and slipped her hood back on, listening to the chatter of all mundane things, grateful for the news she was absorbing, and ordered a pork roast dinner to go with the beer.

* * *

His presence made Wyn's heart race gleefully and giddily, like a schoolgirl in love. Allistor's fiery red hair and willful personality were framed by a smart cobalt uniform with a pair of white crossed sashes on his chest. On a leather belt hung an empty pair of scabbards for his dirk (3) and saber. Weapons weren't permitted at the _Seven Promises._

Following Allistor were four other young men that shared variations of Allistor's eye-catching dark green orbs, crackling with fire. Obviously brothers, they all wore variations of uniforms in different shades, and fine black leather gloves. The first had dark hazel hair, with sea-green eyes, expressionless, but Wyn knew his smile was always contagious. The second and third, twins, had shades of muted brown-orange hair that reminded Wyn of fall. The elder of the two had olive eyes and the younger, bayou eyes, so mixed with green and browns and blacks that Wyn almost couldn't describe them.

Wyn broke into a smile at seeing the last of the handsome Kirklands: a shorter boy, with dirty-blond hair, and the brightest green eyes she had ever seen, followed his older brothers in the omega position of the family. He had grown up.

Wyn sipped from her refilled tankard and turned. A short game of cat and mouse, like they used to play, would determine everything that had happened while she was gone.

Listening to the delighted squeals of the barmaids, Wyn knew the brothers often frequented _Seven Promises_. After settling down on the other side of the bar, Allistor began to whisper into the ear of the prettiest barmaid, who giggled and whispered back. Then she huffed and stormed away, but not without a playful slap on her rear from Conan Kirkland, or Ireland, the player and pervert of the family.

The barmaid, in turn, told a bartender and walked away in a huff to serve other guests.

A shotglass was slid towards Wyn without any further delays, and a smile played at her lips. "Just what I've been waiting for," she said to the bartender.

He polished a glass as he spoke. "From the gent with the fire hair, wants to know if you'll take a drink with him, like old times."

Wyn paused to slowly lift her hood, knowing eyes were fixed on her.

"Tell him I'd love to."

_It's all a game we play, don't you see?_

_Won't you take a drink with me?_

Wyn raised the glass, toasted Allistor, and knew she had caught his eye once more. It would be at least a few days before he would come over and talk to her; yes, she knew the way her former drinking partner liked his girls. He would make the first move.

Wyn was glad for the distraction. She could stay a few nights.

_Let's have a drink,_

_A strong and bitter drink like your heart._

_Let's have a drink_

…_that will turn your heart back to me._

_Then if you get drunk_

_Will you hug me? Will you come back to me?_

_Let's have a drink all night,_ (4)

Just the Two of Us.

* * *

**(1) sister**

**(2) me**

**(3) Scottish dagger**

**(4) Take A Drink Together (Just the Two of Us) by Davichi**

**I AM AWESOME! (almost as much as Prussia.)**

**Lots of words, some suspense, and meddling in war is always fun. Hope you enjoyed this long awaited chapter! Over 2000 words took a long time to write...I needed some suspense but had to wrap up some stuff. The coming chapters will be more mature, but not enough to change the rating to M.  
**

**A final war (The War of Austrian Succession) will end this book and then we'll be into _Jaded_!**

**Please READ AND REVIEW! :)**


	13. Chapter 13 - To Be Swept Away

Wyn impatiently waited for Allistor to show up on Friday, sitting in the same seat as she had since the Monday she had arrived on. He was supposed to talk to her by now, but the pattern persisted, irking her. Maybe he didn't remember her anymore, or thought she was someone else.

But he kept sending drinks to Wyn- always with the same message. _That means something, right?_ And it was Friday. Maybe he had been busy.

And so Wyn began to doubt him.

She watched as a new drink was slid towards her, a dare. Wyn sneaked a look at the man who had sent it to her- it wasn't Allistor. He hadn't shown up today. Olive pools met her iridescent eyes and widened, challenging her.

She downed it in one gulp and immediately was washed with a wave of strong alcohol, cooling and setting her insides on fire at the same time. She blinked, trying to regain her senses, and someone tapped her on the shoulder gently.

Wyn whipped around to see Rhys Kirkland, the older of the twins, grinning. He was Northern Ireland, and had darker orange-brown hair than his twin. He was the one who had sent the drink, with olive eyes, and Wyn was grateful to see him rather than his wild twin.

"_Gott,_ that took a long time," Wyn muttered.

"Weren't my fault. 'e's a charmer, that's true, but want'ed te take the long way 'round," Rhys apologized. Wyn smiled at the younger boy.

"You've grown, Rhys," Wyn said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to teach you how to hunt decent."

"'eah, well..." Rhys blushed and offered her his arm. "Allistor tries his best. Anyhow, no lady should ever have to drink or sit alone. It's not right. 'ow about you join us?"

Wyn raised an eyebrow. "Did Allistor put you up to this?"

"Only sort-of. You wanna come? You're gonna 'ave an awful 'angover t'morrow. I tried that once, but Conan pushed me to give ye' the drink."

Wyn winked. "Rhys, I'm German. I hold my drink fine."

"And I'm Irish. 'alf the time it comes back up when I drink strong stuff like that. Alright then." He looked at her uneasily.

Wyn took his arm and smoothed out her black uniform, ignoring the glares shot at her from many of the barmaids that had finally figured out the relationship between Silesia and the British Isles. "That's why it's fun to drink with the lot of you. Let's go talk."

* * *

"Wyn Meier," Conan grinned and greeted her with a firm embrace. His smile was devilishly handsome and Wyn recognized it right away. It was what set him apart from the other Kirkland brothers. Conan was a player, but he couldn't play Wyn, even though the last time he'd seen her was as a teenager. _A devilishly handsome teenager at that, too,_ Wyn thought. He gently pushed her back and turned her in a circle, nodding his approval. "You've changed. You look more serious. That's never fun."

"No one wants to have 'fun' with you, Conan," Wyn joked.

"Right, you wanted some with my brother," Conan said. "Give 'im a good chase. That's wut 'e likes."

"Very funny, Conan," the dark haired-boy came forward. Wales studied her appearance with sea-green eyes, face expressionless. His quiet intelligence and calm demeanor made him Allistor's favorite brother. "I remember you, Wyn."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't," Wyn changed her tone to a deeper, more serious one. "What exactly do you remember then, Dylan?"

Dylan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Not being invited to the bar with you and Allistor."

Wyn reached up to ruffle Dylan's thick hair, realizing how tall he was. "You were still smart back then. Stubborn as an _arsch_ but quietly handsome. I'm glad you've grown up."

"You're prettier now," he confessed. "Solemn. With a beauty of strength. I admire that. Ivan Braginsky- Russia- calls it _krasivaya_ (1)."

"That's what comes from hardships."

"You've had it harder than us, I suppose."

"Granted, I'm older and supposedly wiser," Wyn stood taller and turned away with a soft smile.

"You remember Arthur?" Rhys led the youngest of the brothers over, steering him with one arm.

"Of course! You were so cute back then," Wyn said gleefully, clapping her hands. She remembered him as the one who always followed around them last, with chubby cheeks.

Arthur whacked Rhys' arm off his shoulders with a sneer. "Back off, you wanker!"

"You guys are too harsh on him," Wyn scolded. Something had changed since the last time she had seen him, and she had a feeling the brothers were to blame.

"It's all in good fun," Conan protested.

"They're _impossible_," Arthur grumbled.

"It's hard to have hot siblings," Conan piped up.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur said bitterly. Wyn, watching, pitied him for the high expectations his brothers held to him, as well as their teasing. She could see the sadness in his wide green eyes.

The brothers distracted Wyn from wondering about Allistor by explaining how they had continued supporting _Seven Promises_ and leaning as much as they could about government and economy from Allistor.

"Where is he, anyways?" Wyn wondered aloud.

"Oh! Right. We 'ere supposed to bring you to him," Rhys remembered. Wyn rolled her eyes and reminded himself to stay calculated and remember her reasons for looking for him once more.

The brothers led her to the tying post, where many horses awaited them.

Wyn hesitated. "Am I going with you?"

"Are you coming with us?" Conan raised an eyebrow.

"After hearing about your time with Roderich, Allistor's been wanting to take you in. To stay with us. He pulled a lot of strings to get stuff ready. But it's all up to you, really," Dylan explained. "We'll be on the road in a little while, but we're all family, anyways."

_I'm touched_, Wyn thought. _They're safe and I get along with Allistor a little more than 'well.' This could be the best move I've made in a long time. But is it only because I can't get back on my feet? Is it like a bone being tossed to a starving dog?_

_But my people._

_My people need to recover._

_Why not?_

_They're friendly, loving. Flirts but that's their nature. You can't change nature._

"Yeah, I'm coming," Wyn decided. Conan and Rhys flashed grins, and Dylan handed her the reins of the extra mare. Like usual, Arthur rolled his eyes at the decision his brothers had made.

* * *

Wyn boarded the dragon-headed ship with a smile on her face, admiring the sea that she had not seen for so long. The sun cast a dim shadow upon the morning, and the tides were already high. Inside, she was giddy and felt drunk upon the freedom of the sky and the seas. _This_ was where she belonged, among the birds and the waves, not walled up within stone and glass.

_I'm going to see Allistor, that old charmer,_ Wyn repeated to herself. The hope it gave her was uplifting.

Wyn cherished the time she had travelling. She loved the feel of the cold northern winds in her hair and it bleached the dull grey to a dove silver once more, her curls becoming unraveled and wild, the way she loved them to. _This is freedom, and I'm tasting liberty and choice once more._

Arthur and Conan's bouts of brotherly arguments kept Wyn entertained throughout the trip, but Wyn was only concerned with seeing Allistor. She was hopeful that the boys' outrageous cooking skills had improved.

As the Kirkland brothers heaved her trunks onto the craggy landscape, Wyn took in the highlands of the British isles. The wind, water, and land seemed to flow together, in and out, and its rugged landscape was barely touched. The dirt roads were like ribbons through the seams of the grass. Wyn had traded her silks and finery for clothing made of fine Merino wool from Roderich, who got it from Antonio.

* * *

"_I'm sad to see you go," Roderich said without emotion. It was probably a practiced script, like the one Wyn had in mind for Gilbert._

"_I'm happier living my own life. Treat Elizaveta like gold, you _arschloch_. That's all I can say to you," Wyn snapped._

"_I will," Roderich murmured. Elizaveta had changed his life, and he would never let her go. Roderich decided not to mention their upcoming marriage to her, especially since he had taken Gilbert away from her._

_Vladimir's spells were beginning to fade from the aged skin and mind of the woman that portrayed Wyn, but he wouldn't admit it. He wouldn't be able to see the horror that he had unleashed because of his foolhardy, selfish ways._

_He had changed._

_Elizaveta was all that mattered now._

_When Gilbert found out-_

_Roderich would turn a blind eye to a monster that he alone had created. _

* * *

The group traveled on the dirt road for four days before arriving at the mansion the Kirklands lived in. Though not as jaw-dropping as the sweeping lines of the warmer climates, the tall, dark building was ominous and had a darker personality. It told a story of survival and determination to build something out of nothing, and Wyn admired its dark lines from afar.

An even more pleasant sight was Allistor himself, with a cocky smile and his gloved hands on his hips.

"Allistor!" Conan yelled gleefully. "We've brought her-"

But Wyn was already running, a black and silver blur, towards the tall Scotsman. She leapt into his long arms, and Allistor held her close, breathing in her cold aura. Her breaths were short and Wyn was laughing for the first time since her attempt to become independent, since she was captured by Roderich.

The pair fell into the highland grass, and Conan and Rhys chorused their reunion with a series of wolf whistles. Arthur grumbled, unnoticed and jealous, and Dylan had a small smile on his face.

Wyn and Allistor didn't hear them.

Allistor snorted, feigning indifference. He grinned at the flushed Wyn. "You missed me, lass?"

His dark green eyes were bright and hopeful, revealing a plethora of feelings Wyn never thought he had. Inside, she realized her heart more than just room for Gilbert. She had buried that part away, hidden it from view. _Why didn't I burn it?_ _Am I just waiting for him to come back?_

Wyn saw Allistor for the first time before her. With his fiery personality, he complimented Wyn well, full of vivid colors, when she was pale and colorless. Allistor had always been there for Wyn, supporting her and listening to her rants. Those nights when she had drunk herself sick over Gilbert, he was the one who carried her home. He was always more than a drinking partner to Wyn, and she was a fool not to realize that.

_I've always loved you, even if I never saw that. You've been so much to me, and I've only screamed at you when I was drunk._

"That and more," Wyn felt a rush of happiness through her body, like a river strong enough to sweep her away. She _wanted_ to be swept away, in this feeling stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She was giddier than when she was drunk, and she never could have had this before.

Allistor cracked a smile, reaching up to stroke her hair. "I knew you'd say that, lass. Just couldn't get enough of me, could you? Always loving Gilbert with your heart and soul. I've got nothing for you."

Wyn blinked away tears at the mention of Gilbert. He stared into her usually expressionless, fierce expression, and smiled slowly. "You don't have to always be there for him."

Wyn was _crying_. What did Roderich do to wear down her entire armor, to break her?

"Oh, lass."

He pulled her close and kissed her pale lips.

It was all like a dream, making Wyn's head spin. With the wind sifting through her hair and her eyes closed and watering, Wyn felt safe. She felt _wanted, loved, cherished._ She forgot why she was there to take revenge. She didn't deserve any of this. An army could have charged towards them and she wouldn't have noticed.

He broke away. "You have to tell me everything."

Allistor stood, helping her up, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders protectively. He didn't want to believe she loved him, it was too soon and too hard to believe and then break off later. Allistor gave her a half-smile. "We ought to go in then."

Wyn took a breath as Allistor wiped away her tears. "Suits me then."

"You never deserved that."

The brothers were careful to follow behind as Allistor walked closely with Wyn all the way to the mansion, with a sea of green waving behind them.

_In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,_

_I can tell you can fit one more._

_In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,_

_I don't care who was there before._

_I hear your heart cry for love,_

_Then you act like there's no room._

_Room for me, or anyone,_

_"Don't disturb" is all I see._

_Close the door, turn the key,_

_On everything that we could be. _(2)

* * *

**(1) beauty with strength (Russian)**

**(2) Heart Vacancy by The Wanted**

**Okay, sad chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I'm so sorry for the delay this time. I've been trying to get up and all but here is this chappie! Serenity will come before Ch. 14, but I assure it WILL come soon :) I'm really sorry again!**

**Please READ AND REVIEW!**


	14. Chapter 14 - A Bed of Roses

***WARNINGS: mentions of sex***

***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK***

* * *

Gilbert stared at the lines on his wife's face. They were thin, etched upon the painting that was her face. Within any normal couple, this would be normal; this would be expected, with the passing of time. But these were different.

They were supposed to be _immortal_.

_Youthful_.

They didn't change in appearance unless they wanted to. All countries wanted to stay young. But his wife-

Was Wyn aging?

"Wyn," he spoke softly to her, between a mumble and a whisper. "Are you aging?"

"Am I?" she asked sarcastically, with an edge of demure sweetness and hard survival in her voice.

He used two thin fingers to trace the line above her brows. "You said you weren't going to change…"

Wyn immediately flew over to the looking glass in the washroom and stared at the lines on her face. They were growing darker by the second. She watched as her skin began to pale and dot with age and her limbs began to shrivel. She screamed.

Gilbert rushed in, and seeing her begin to shrink in size and warp before his eyes, he was unsettled and unbroken.

_Her accent…_

It was never Silesian or even a hint of Prussian.

Austrian.

Gilbert gasped at the revelation. _Roderich had tricked him. This wasn't Wyn._

His mind filled with red and black as Gilbert yelled, lunging forward. It was a sound of outrage, of loss, and anger. He wanted blood. And when his mind cleared, all he could see was the blood on his hands and the mutilated pieces of the woman who had played Wyn for over a century across the floor. The horror of what he'd done was nothing compared to the switch that had embarrassed and humiliated him for so long.

_That's not enough_. _I will never forgive him._

_I want revenge._

_I want blood._

_I want his blood spilling across the grass of the land and soaking into the mud and shit for millennia._

Gilbert fell to his knees, his voice echoing in his hollow, shattered mind. They repeated over and over again. He wanted to _murder_ Roderich. He wanted to murder him and all of Austria, eliminate them from the map of the world forever.

His hands tore at his rumpled white hair. _How could I not have noticed? Was I so blind, so soft as to forget her so completely and fully?_

Thoughts tore through Gilbert's ravaged mind, burrowing deep into the marrow of his bones. He would rip Roderich into pieces and feed him to his dogs.

He began to repeat it to himself now.

_I want revenge._

_I want blood._

_I want his blood spilling across the grass of the land and soaking into the mud and shit for millennia._

_I want to lay waste to all of Austria._

_I want to kill and murder._

Gilbert was going mad.

Gott _cannot stop me from accomplishing this. Even if he strikes me down, _Königreich Preußen _will be known for painting Europe with the red of Austria's blood._

* * *

Allistor held Wyn's hand as she told her story from the moment she had willingly gone with Roderich from the battlefield to the silence she had descended under for almost a year. The other brothers listened as well, with their own respective comments, but those didn't matter to her. The redheaded man was attentive but fiery in his defense of her, but Wyn knew she couldn't stay.

It was before dawn when she woke from the wool-stuffed bed in Allistor's quarters. They hadn't _done_ anything, but Wyn was plagued with nightmares. She didn't dare tell him they were about Gilbert, or the images of bloodshed painted within her mind. Sleeping near his presence was calming, and knowing she had someone to care for her had proved a protection for her crumbling conscience.

"Lass," Allistor murmured into her silver hair, sensing her unrest. He shifted to move her closer to his chest, his arm carefully placed around her thin waist. "Are ye goin' back te sleep or not?"

"No," Wyn said hesitantly, sitting up. Allistor opened a sparkling dark green eye and raised an eyebrow at her, and Wyn sighed. "Allistor, I'm not dying. I just can't sleep."

"That's the same te' me," Allistor said. "We can do other stuff if you want."

Wyn playfully shoved him. "I'm not having sex with you."

"How about-"

"No."

Allistor snorted. "We all know you can talk sex like politics. Why not live out your theorems and practice what you preach?"

"Not till I'm married," Wyn said stalwartly.

"Whatever ye' want, you're my lass, anyways," Allistor remarked, nuzzling the skin of Wyn's stomach with his nose. It sent Wyn into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, stop, Allistor," Wyn scolded, placing a light kiss on his forehead. It all seemed natural to her, and loving him was like a second skin lightly placed on her shoulders. It was a mantle that protected her from war and from the cold.

But she hadn't forgotten about why she had gone there.

Deep inside, a fire for revenge and to hurt Austria was still there.

War smoldered in the depths of Silesia's mind. She was still under Austrian control, technically, and the people were restless.

Then there were the rumors.

Rumors of the greatest army on Earth gathering for a mass exodus out for the extinction of Austrian blood. Wyn had heard only mutterings from a worried Arthur, and his brothers were convinced it wouldn't reach them. Conan had only made fun of Arthur for even considering joining the war last night.

"Allistor," Wyn said, commanding his attention. "Is there a war on the mainland?"

Allistor opened his eyes to face her, a fierce expression on his formerly calm face. "Where did you hear that?"

"Arthur."

"Damn that boy. Damn him to hell," Allistor spat. He turned to Wyn. "You're not going there. Please. Don't go there. Don't leave us- don't leave me."

"I-"

Wyn was unsure of what to say. The cries of her people were growing louder in her head, calling for blood and change. A new queen had been appointed as Roderich's boss- Maria Theresa. Her husband, married into the Hapsburg dynasty, had inherited the title of Holy Roman Emperor. Wyn remembered Slavic law, taught to her by Günther so long ago, clearly stating that no woman could hold the throne by herself.

The Scotsman stared deeply into her eyes. "Promise me you won't go."

"Tell me of the war."

Allistor sighed. "I can't keep the truth from ye', can I? Well, not so long ago, your lovely Gilbert decided to play his cards and bet on Feliks. Wiped him off the map for a while, scarred his mind. I heard that he-"

"What did he do?" Wyn demanded.

Allistor eyed her uneasily. "He found out, Wyn," Allistor said softly. "After a century, he finally figured it out. He tore that girl to shreds with his _bare hands_. That's why we're all on the brink of war, of choosing between sides now. I don't want you to join that bloodshed. You're too precious to me, to all of us. Wyn, _I love you_."

Wyn was silent to his plea. He had shown her his forbidden side, one that never came into the light. _How could I not feel anything to this waterfall of emotion he just gave me?_

Dark green eyes pulsed as the sun began to rise along the British Isles and Wyn began to make up her mind. Silesia yearned for independence, but was overshadowed by both Prussia and Austria.

"They're starting to choose sides," Allistor said, breaking their silence. "Arthur joined Roderich this morning. Russia,"- he shuddered at the mention of the country with glowing violet eyes- "has joined Austria. So have Sardinia, Hanover, Saxony, and the Netherlands. Wyn, don't let your thirst for blood or revenge blind you. Prussia may have France and Spain behind him now, but they will lose."

"Then I will join my flag with theirs," Wyn said haughtily. She had made up her mind. If change was sweeping the land without her, and if her lands were involved, she had to take up arms with them as well. Even if it meant facing Gilbert. She could call upon her brothers for support, and gather the remaining German states with her. Silesia commanded respect from the nations and duchies that relied on her gold and silver for food.

"No." Allistor was firm. "I won't let you."

Wyn growled deep in her throat. "You have no right to. I came of my own free will, and if you intend to stop me, I will wage war against you when this all blows over."

A savage tactician and leader, Wyn knew her only hope for revenge was at this moment, in the beginnings of the War of Austrian Succession.

If it meant joining forces with that trio, well, then, she'd have independence after.

* * *

Wyn stormed out of their room, not intending to step back in, and slipped her thigh-high white laced, heeled boots on over black trousers and her silky shirt. Who _cared_ if she was cold? She was leaving, anyways. She tied her lace collar on and selected the longest of her black coats, the one with medals and lapels and all sorts of paraphernalia on it that marked her rank and importance in the army. Wyn was done with this life of cool relaxation on the highlands. She had healed from her time with Roderich.

Though she assumed the appearance of a 19-year old, she felt far older than that when she put on the tall tricorn that Lili Zwingli had made for her so long ago. Was there ever a time of peace in her heart, when she was free?

On the ship going back to the mainland, Wyn thought. Allistor had refused to see her off, bitterly refusing to admit her decision. Conan and Rhys were pained to see her go, and Dylan was simply silent. She had left a broken family behind her, but prayed that they would find peace in her decision.

Silesia had plans for finding allies. She knew who she could count on to support them in the coming war, not only Germans but the Italians as well. She would pay calls to Hesse of course, but doubted her brother would come to her aid, especially knowing that Gilbert and he were on bad terms. But Bavaria and Saxony would come for sure; they owed too much to her to deny her request. The Italians of Sicily and Naples would come; maybe Genoa if she threatened them or bribed them. She planned to visit Berwald and Vash as well.

Silesia was formulating a plan to win, of course, but she never put much thought to what would happen after.

There would come a day when she would be threatened, even if she won the war. She could die young and unloved in this ever-changing world. She wished for peace, but didn't know what she would do once she found it again.

_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a, bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song. _(1)

* * *

**(1) If I Die Young by the Band Perry**

** /watch?v=JdgSIn5G3h8**

**The link is a Prussia tribute that made me cry! It is amazing. I'm so sorry for the delay :( School has become quite obnoxious and there's a lot of work to be done.**

**Please READ AND REVIEW! Next chapter up soon! _Undoubtedly_ is almost done :) Then will come _Jaded_ and I'm really excited to write :) STAR Week will give me a longggg time to write and hopefully we'll be done at that time!**

**Now READ AND REVIEW PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**


	15. Chapter 15 - Under the Same Sky

With Bavaria, Saxony, Sicily, Genoa, and Naples in tow, Wyn set out for the Prussian camp by the Oder River in full military regalia. She had a very faint memory of this place being part of Silesian lands once. Her familiar rapier once again hung on her hip, a legendary weapon that had been preserved by a loyal Silesian for the past century after finding it near the border of Prussia. A brand new set of mother-of-pearl dueling pistols hung on the belt she looped around her shoulder. Berwald was going to join her at the camp, but Vash had refused to fight against Roderich, insisting he had to remain neutral.

Lili was still nowhere to be found, and Wyn found herself missing the younger girl's bright personality.

Wyn had a grim smile on her face as she controlled the magnificent stallion she rode on with ease. With the invention of guns in play (which she still didn't know how to shoot), this war would certainly be prolonged and bloody. Wyn still remembered Günther's greatest war tactics that he had taught his most aggressive, warlike children. She eagerly rode with the strength of 120,000 Silesian troops behind her, and another 500,000 from her allies. The grandiose army, when combined with those she was about to offer an alliance with, would stretch to the horizon in a sea of tents.

As they neared the edge of the camp, the head generals held up their hands to halt the marching army. A white flag was raised beside the standard of the Silesian army and her allies, so the Prussians, French, and Spanish would not attack them. Wyn slipped off her horse like quicksilver, ready to enter the camp.

The Prussian army had set up a formidable camp; it was surrounded by a high wooden wall and spiked on the top. The area had been cleared ten miles in a circle around it so they could see the approach of potential enemies in every direction. Wyn proceeded, her heeled white boots kicking up dust as she walked on the temporary road towards the gate of the camp, flanked by her generals and allies.

"Who goes there?" the sentries shouted from the tower above the main gate.

"_Ich bin Wyn Meier von Silesia_. (1)" Wyn shouted. "We come to speak with your commanders in peace."

A hurried signal was given and the small party entered the camp, where soldiers drilled in formations on the open plain by the frozen December river. Tents were orderly and clustered on the west side of the camp, and the east side had cooking fires and meeting tents.

A small messenger came out from nowhere and bowed before asking for Wyn. She stepped forward and smiled at the young boy, taking the sealed message and pressing a small coin into his hand in the same motion. He ran off with the small fortune, and Wyn prayed to _Gott_ that he would not be harmed in the war.

The party continued and was directed towards a large pavilion with the flags of Prussia, France, and Spain flying from its top. Wyn studied, fascinated, at the able infantry practicing shooting and reloading their guns, and the practice charge of the cavalry.

She opened the short note, the wax cracking under her touch. It had been stamped with the French _fleur-de-lis_.

Scrawled inside, by Francis's own hand, read:

"_Si__nous reverrons__, la fille __sans merci._

_Venez-vous__de fixer__son esprit__?_

_Je prie Dieu __que vous atteindrez__son âme__, car il __est perdu."_

"We meet again, the girl without mercy.

Have you come to fix his mind?

I pray to God that you have come to reach his soul, for it is lost."

Wyn wondered what he could have meant by this haunting message. _He tore that girl apart with his bare hands. He was so ravaged by loss and deception that his personality changed. Yes, that has to be it._

She began to fear what she would find in the pavilion as she stepped inside, white boots crunching on winter snow and slush.

* * *

The gasps and swearing of surprise at the entrance of a woman in the war camp, one that wasn't a whore, reached Wyn first as she stepped into the pavilion. The military officer were well-protected against the harsh weather, and wore the colors of Prussian blue and red, with gold braid upon their lapels, Spanish red and gold, and French light blue and white.

She looked to the middle-aged man with piercing eyes and eyes, and by the simple embroidery of the _reichsadler_ (2) on his lapels, identified him as Gilbert's new boss. She stepped forward, not looking at any of the countries looking on amusedly and in shock.

Sweeping off her tricorn and releasing her silver hair, Wyn bowed before the man. "I am honored to make your acquaintance. My name is Wyn Meier."

"And who are you to speak directly to a king?" a Spainard demanded.

Wyn turned her vivid eyes in a deadly gaze upon the man. "And who are you to speak to a country?"

The King of Prussia spoke before the officer could insult Wyn further. "The honor is mine. But I believe it is within my power to ask your purpose in bringing hundreds of thousands of troops to our supposedly secret camp?"

"It is," Wyn agreed. "We came to offer help from Silesia and her allies in your coming war. I am the personification of Silesia."

"A fitting woman for the job," the king said. "I was informed of your existence and disappearance of late."

Wyn already liked this man, who got to the point instead of overusing flowerly language. His calm demeanor and intelligent statements, as well as his cool calculations, reminded Wyn so strongly of Günther, the father she never had.

"May I introduce Francis Bonnefoy, the country of France, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the country of Spain? And their respective rulers, King Louis XV of France, and King Philip V of Spain?"

"My pleasure," Wyn tipped her tricorn to them.

"Come, then, now that the introductions are over. Let us speak further of our impending invasion," the king beckoned, and Wyn set off with him on a walk outside.

* * *

"My boy told me about you," the king began, his coat flapping in the wind that had begun to pick up. He clasped his arms behind his back as they walked towards the tents. "When he was sane, he talked about your spirit and the courage you displayed on the battlefield. You are a woman to be feared. I thank you for looking after him all those years ago.

"Ever since he was tricked into thinking the Austrian was you, and how that happened I will never understand, his mind has been delicate. He's called for revenge and this campaign we are on. I now understand the way his feelings towards other countries affect that of the people, and vice versa."

"I am glad to hear it," Wyn said. "But may I ask your name? We have not met before."

He chuckled, eyes upturning into the small wrinkles that had begun to gather around his storm-gray eyes. "His stories have made me think that we have met. I feel as if I know you. I am Friedrich the Second. You may call me Friedrich or Fritz, though he calls me 'Old Fritz.' It's grown on me."

Wyn realized, finally, of whom he was speaking. _He sounds like he's talking about his son,_ she thought. _But it's Gilbert. Gilbert!_

Fritz stopped in front of a large tent. "His mind has not been steady as of late. I beg you, _bitte_ (3), do your best to speak and find him in that lost place he is in now."

"Alright," Wyn agreed hesitantly. "So you accept our offer?"

"Absolutely."

"Then good day to you, Fritz. May our men join as brothers in arms during this conflict and long after."

"I intend to capture Silesia for Prussia."

"That can be discussed at a later point in time."

"Very well, then."

Wyn entered the tent, fear and excitement singing a duet in her heart.

* * *

Gilbert sat in an armchair in the corner of his tent, staring at the fire. It crackled and snapped, like his mind, at various times. His uniform was disheveled and his hair was tousled, messy.

Then the girl entered, with a fierce expression on her face. She drew near and Gilbert pounced, his hands on her throat, ready to break her neck or suffocate her.

_She looks so much like Wyn. She's not, though._ His ruby eyes glinted with rage and loss. He wanted to kill this imposter, like all the others. _Fake. Fake!_

The girl took one look at him and twisted so that he was the one with his back on the hard ground. She gave him a hard punch to the face and shoved her knee into his crotch. Gilbert grunted in shock, feeling the force of her blows harshly.

When Gilbert was subdued, Wyn sniffed his foul breath, throwing him to the floor and grabbing the beer from his side table before settling into the armchair Gilbert had just been in. She crossed her legs, staring at his crumpled form. Not a word had been exchanged between the two of them. _He's drunk, _verdammnt!

Wyn spoke after taking a long sip of the beer. "The things you've sank to without me, Gilbert. It's foul. Lowly. Beneath you."

Wyn was proud, arrogant, the traits that she and Gilbert shared closely. To see him in this state was even worse than what she had dealt with before. This madness scared her to her wits' ends, not knowing what could unravel it so easily. Roderich had broken something deep inside to spur him into this shell, and Wyn was determined to make him pay.

She watched as the stunned man dragged himself to the other chair, painfully pulling himself up. Wyn's heart ached to help him, to pity him, but her pride wouldn't let her. She had to stay strong, to be a standard to what he had to become once more. She waited for his response.

"So you're real, then?" Gilbert finally asked. The black rings surrounding his eyes made them appear large and luminous, childlike in their appearance. They reminded her of the quiet boy Wyn had met so long ago, the one she had fallen for and never let go. That boy was always burned deep into her memory, the image of him never far from her mind. Beneath his drunken exterior, was that boy still inside? Was he still alive, buried within this destructive personality?

"Of course."

"Then tell me," Gilbert seemed on the edge of breaking. "What was the charm I gave you so long ago?"

Wyn felt the coolness of the metal above her breasts, and she reached into her blouse to pull out the necklace she had always kept on in secret. It was a black Iron Cross, a symbol of honor and the preservation of German nations. Gilbert had given it to her as a child during one of his rare moments of thoughtful, wistful thinking.

"_Wyn," the teenager beckoned. He was sitting beneath a large oak and Gilbird was perched atop his head._

_The girl, about twelve, ran over, her long silver hair trailing behind her in the rare summer breeze. Summer leaves and vibrant long grasses made the landscape reminiscent of a fairy tale. "_Ja_, Gilbert?"_

_He pulled her to sit beside him. "Since _vater's_ gone at war again, I want you to know that you're safe and protected here. I'll always stand up for you, Wyn."_

_The girl was speechless as he fastened his Iron Cross, sparkling in the light, around her neck. Günther had given it to Gilbert himself when he proclaimed him his son, reminding Gilbert that he wasn't alone in their large family. Though everyone knew Holy Roman Empire would succeed Günther, Gilbert had tried to squander his life and waste it because he was the son that no one needed or wanted. He was an outcast within his own family, but Günther had noticed and given his son a twin Iron Cross._

_And now Wyn wore it on her neck._

_Gilbert tackled Wyn in a hug and she blushed. "_Bruder,_ why would you give something so important to you to me?"_

"_Because you're more than a sister to me, Wyn."_

Wyn thrust the black Iron Cross towards Gilbert, slipping it off her neck. "Is this enough to convince you?"

Gilbert's eyes widened, expressing his surprise.

Wyn watched as his eyes lost their glare of rage and _einsamkeit_ (4).

She decided that her task had been accomplished, jumping out of the chair and walking briskly out of the room. She couldn't fall for him again now, she couldn't on the brink of war. She could love him from afar. _If only you knew._

"Wyn!" Gilbert cried out.

The plea reached deaf ears.

_I'm singing my blues,_

_Used to the blue tears, blue sorrow_

_I'm singing my blues,_

_The love that I have sent away with the floating clouds, oh oh_

_Under the same sky, at different places_

_Because you and I are dangerous_

_I am leaving you._ (5)

* * *

**(1) I am Wyn Meier of Silesia.**

**(2) Imperial Eagle of Prussia**

**(3) Please**

**(4) Loneliness**

**(5) Blue by Big Bang**

**Long chappie! Must be a record since I posted twice in 2 days :) Hope you all enjoyed it! I'm so proud that I've made it this far. Only about 3~5 more chapters in this FF, then we shall move on to _Jaded_! So excited I might throw myself a little party *dances around happily*  
**

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! All are appreciated greatly and will give you a better-quality piece! Please continue to support Wyn & Gilbert!  
**

**NOW GO R&R! _BITTE_!  
**


	16. Chapter 16 - Thinking As One

Minimal contact. That was Wyn's goal in avoiding Gilbert. Talking or attempting to see each other would only cause further pain for them both. She saw him at the meals that he finally began to take again, and at the many inspections they made on the troops. After only a week. Of joint training, Silesian troops and those of their allies had already improved tenfold. The Prussian army had become the most powerful in the world, thanks to the training of Friedrich I and his secret training.

But Wyn still didn't know how to shoot a gun or a pistol. Her dueling pistols were useless unless she had the skills to wield them.

As Wyn watched the men spar with their swords, Francis appeared beside her. His lustrous blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he appeared perfectly at ease despite his reputation of a bad stomach for war. "You miss fighting, _ma chérie_ (1)?"

Wyn bared her teeth in a savage smile. "_Ja,_ of course."

"Then I shall honor your request," Francis proclaimed. Wyn snorted before realizing he was serious. He drew his sword and stepped on the fencing field, the blade glinting in the light. It was a hand-and-a-half sword, ancient and originating from the Middle Ages. Wyn stared down the weapon pointing at her throat.

Though its handle and guard were gilded gold and studded with aquamarine and ruby, the blade itself was a solemn affair, clumsy, almost dull, and awkward. It was perfectly straight, without a killing curve that Wyn was used to seeing. It would do its job, but provided no personality nor finesse in its art.

"_En garde_, Wyn Meier," Francis challenged.

She grinned and drew her rapier, the familiar weight and lightness of the weapon providing a perfect match for her personality and aggressive fighting style. The double-edged blade was sharp and keen, thin but strong. The handle was bound in leather to keep Wyn's palms from slipping. She fondly remembered how Günther had wrapped it himself, using the skin from a wolf.

"_You were protected by the wolves since your conception," he said. "The face of a wolf is its weapon. It stuns, frightens, inspires. It is the face of a deadly hunter, stealthy. Their paws are silent on the fresh snow, and their teeth are a weapon that can tear a man apart with only a few bites._

"_By wrapping your hilt with this wolf skin I bestow upon it, and its owner the power and mysteries of a wolf."_

_Günther proceeded to wrap the handle, the spirals of gray and tan skin mesmerizing Wyn. They looped almost endlessly around the handle, in an eternity she couldn't understand. He muttered German proverbs and prayers to_ Gott_ while he did so, enchanting the blade with technique and ancient spells that his father had told him and done for him when he was young. It was a ceremony that was just as much a part of his life as it would become for Wyn's and the Germanic children's', a symbol of their heritage and a gift from their father._

_Wyn gazed at the thin blade in awe, feeling its perfected killing edge, the new sword intended to be a companion and match for the rest of her life._

Wyn stepped forward, and Francis mirrored her bow before they began circling, light on their feet. Wyn felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and excitement as they began the intricate dance that was dueling. His blade did not sing a song in the wind as it rushed to meet Wyn's. He tested his power, throwing weight into the blow.

Wyn parried and stepped aside, turning in a circle. Her hair was wild and free, and her blade began to whistle as she landed a flurry of blows that Francis was barely able to block. She used his moment of hesitation to lunge forward, almost touching his heart, when he grinned.

He proceeded to leap forward and force Wyn to jump and turn, crouching. She tried to attack again, but found that Francis was only playing with her. He was masked, his motions unreadable as Wyn found herself facing a swordsman she could not read.

Francis forced Wyn into defense and she began to tell herself what to do. She parried, stepping backwards, feigning that she would give up at any second, before whacking his blade soundly. It rang with a high note, as she had hoped, and caused Francis to falter. His form was wrecked as she used both hands to overcome his strength, using her anger and frustration that had built up for so long as her energy.

As Francis began to block her blade with almost superhuman speed, Wyn realized he was only playing with her, toying with her onset of skills. As Günther had once said to Wyn, she had revealed all her cards too early.

They continued to battle, each step undermining Wyn's confidence that she could win. She began to falter, her form slipping, as her pride refused to let her lose. As their swords tangled, the weight of Francis' strength finally caused Wyn to jump back, breathing hard.

Francis pointed his sword at her. "Don't back down in cowardice."

Wyn uttered a cry from within her throat in frustration before trying to attack again. Francis parried with short flicks of his wrist and moved forward, attacking. His cool demeanor unnerved Wyn, her mind and thoughts slipping into a dark cloud that she couldn't see through.

Wyn lowered her sword in defeat, sheathing it and walked away, teeth gritted at the gathering of soldiers that had gathered, intending to leave, when Gilbert walked forward. The applause was nearly deafening.

Francis smiled and made a deep bow, theatrical to the end. Though Wyn was lost in a sea of her own anger, she knew she had met a better swordsman. Francis was raised by Ancient Rome, who Germania respected and worked for during much of his life. The competition that had built up within their children, though friendly, was fierce.

"Wyn," Gilbert called. Francis let out a low whistle and Antonio grinned, watching the scene unfold.

The girl whipped around, staring at Gilbert with eyes glinting. Wyn pointed her sword at him. "What do you want?"

Gilbert knew what he wanted to say. But with Wyn in all her fury and malice, her rare moments of smiles and tears, she was unpredictable. She had been avoiding him, and he knew that. He had told his friends of his plan, but Wyn...she was a different variable entirely. This depended upon her.

So he changed his plan.

"Do you know how to shoot? You hold two pistols, yet you reach for your sword at first instinct," Gilbert challenged, his voice becoming dark and steely. Wyn was a rare bird, a free spirit, that he needed to capture once again. It was a challenge posed to him and he loved her flamboyant and fierce ways.

To his surprise, Wyn hesitated. The crowd hadn't dispersed. "No," she said softly, embarrassed. A soft blush colored her pale skin, and Gilbert longed to take her in his arms and tell her it was alright.

Francis and Antonio exchanged a look, knowing this was not part of the plan.

"I'll teach you, then," Gilbert said.

Wyn lowered her head and locked her jaw, shame coloring her face. She wished he would, but conflicting emotions told her yes and no. She tried steadfastly to hold her ground and what she stood behind, but with Gilbert, she was confused, tricked.

"Alright," Wyn said hoarsely.

Fritz watched amusedly at the interaction between the boy that he considered his son, and the girl that Gilbert loved so deeply. Yes, love was like a battle to be won. It involved the clashing of words and actions, the tearing and wounding of the heart. It was a mystery to be solved and prey to be caught. A war to be won, like the one they were about to wage against Austria.

Wyn and Gilbert, though they were countries, were indifferent to these laws.

The crowd parted for the duo to walk to the shooting range, following in their wake like the waves upon the shore.

* * *

Gilbert taught Wyn in a soft voice how to load her pistol, and watched as the girl's hand began to shake as she watched the crowd look to the target, expecting her to shoot it perfectly. He knew she preferred the bow and arrow, and pitied her cowardice. What had Austria done to crush her so easily?

The answer was easy: him.

She was the girl watching that day next to Roderich.

He had finally realized it.

Without thinking, he drew her to his chest and steadied her hand, holding it like a fragile bird within his own large hands. He lowered his head to whisper in her ear, and Wyn shivered from the moisture of his breath in her ear. "The gun will kick back. You have to keep your hand steady and aimed on the target. Keep your form, yes, stand straight. _Ja_, you've got it."

Gilbert gently applied pressure to her thin fingers and they squeezed the trigger in unison, hearts, bodies, and minds thinking as one. Wyn could feel the perfection in which they worked together, and broke away first from the warmth of his body.

The soldiers watching cheered as the target was held up with a perfect, single shot fired in the middle and they began to split apart, going to eat their midday meal.

Wyn looked to the ground and Gilbert watched, facing her.

"_Gut._"

With that one word, Wyn walked away as Francis and Antonio wished they could do anything to help their friend who had lost himself so fully and completely, head over heels, in love.

_The whispering saying that you love me_

_Your breath still remains in my ears;_

_Though every love's gonna be changed_

_My love won't be changed_

_touch me, touch me _

_you are everything in my life. _

_Though you will get away from me_

_I will get closer to you_

_kiss me, kiss me_

_you are everything in my life._ (2)

* * *

**(1) darling (in French)**

**(2) You Are My Everything by Davichi**

**Shorter chapter, but 3 days of straight posting! War is coming…and I can't wait to write it.**

**Here I want to make a shoutout to angelofthemusic . Her fanfic, _Solely Cherished_, is a similar FF to this and I know you'll all DEVOUR it :D She's posting Chapter 2 tonight and you will all love it! Please support her, R&R, and favorite and follow it. _Solely Cherished_ focuses on Aurora Oxenstierna, the younger sister of Berwald (Sweden.) Her journey from the cragged rocks of the Åland Islands to love and change will twist your hearts and give you an amazing FF from the Nordics! GO NORDIC FIVEEEE :D ALWAYS WITH YOU!**

**Enjoy this chapter and please remember to READ and REVIEW! :D Thank you everyone for following thus far!**

** stormjade THANKS SO MUCH I REWROTE A LARGE SECTION FROM YOUR EXCELLENT REVIEW. How is it now? Better?**

**PLEASE R&R!**


	17. Chapter 17 - An Impossible Dream

**CAUTION:**

**READ AT YOUR OWN RISK**

**bad language ahead!**

**Don't say I didn't warn you!**

* * *

Berwald approached the tent of his _schwester_, cautious. He could hear hard, choked sobs emanating from it. The way he spoke had changed since the death of Günther, not quite German anymore; it was distinctly Swedish now.

"_Schwester_," Berwald called. He pushed open the heavy flap of the tent. "_Guten tag. _(1) Are you alright?"

He entered the tent, marveling at the extravagance of the Silesian's wealth. Though they were in a military camp, Wyn's furniture was made of thick black walnut, even if it was limited to only the simplest of furniture. The unmistakable _Piasts_ eagle, almost the same as the Prussian one, was carved into the black wood. Though worn, the textiles of the room were in vibrant colors and had immaculate details.

Wyn was sitting at her desk, head down in the crook of her elbow. Without looking up, she asked, "What do you want, Berwald?"

A softer side came out of the usually emotionless Swede. "To talk to my little _schwester._"

"_Bruder_, I don't want to," Wyn whined.

"Nonsense. You talk whenever I don't want to, so why is it so hard now?" He relaxed into one of the armchairs in the spacious tent. "Talk to me. I'm your _bruder_; I was probably born to listen to my siblings."

"Then why is life so cruel, Berwald?" Wyn sat up and faced him, demanding answers.

A light went off in his head. "You're having boy problems," Berwald concluded.

"That's ridiculous."

"You love Gilbert."

"I'm not denying it but it's an impossible dream."

"Why?"

The brother and sister shot words fast and argued against each other. The words were calculated and were meant to make the other doubt himself. Despite Berwald's normally calm nature, he was fired up by the argument.

At last, Berwald was silent. He decided to change the subject. "Wyn, they left."

"They left what?"

"The Prussians made their advance and are probably conquering your territory as we speak."

Wyn sighed, to his surprise, and didn't make a move to attack the fact. Berwald had expected anger and fury, perhaps happiness or defeat, but she simply accepted it, knowing it was a fact she couldn't change. She couldn't call the armies back from miles away. _She's changed, _Berwald admitted to himself. _I almost don't recognize her anymore._

"Oh, just go away," Wyn said after a moment of silence. She curled into a ball on her bed as she fell asleep, drunk on words and fate and everything the world had cruelly thrown at her.

* * *

Roderich was depressed, so much as to sit at the piano for half a day before his boss, Maria Theresa, the intelligent new queen, called him in. By letting Wyn run wild and free, he had lost the territory to Gilbert - a shocking blow when he had expected madness to descend upon his least favorite _bruder_, not war and bloodthirst.

When Gilbird had appeared with a note, Roderich thought his world had begun to end. Instead of drinking, like all the other petty brothers, he drowned himself in music, the numbing cocktail of notes and chords.

Elizaveta had been called back to Hungary, which had grown powerful under the Holy Roman Empire. But she had gone now, leaving Roderich more lost than he'd ever been. He needed her and never realized it until she had left.

As the unfamiliar tempo of soldiers marching filled his country, Roderich played a march in response, preparing himself to fight as well. It was something he hadn't done in a long time.

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing, as his long and tapered fingers imagined holding a gun or a sword. They were brutal, clumsy instruments that held no music, only the cries and screams of the dead and the dying.

Roderich frowned, standing up. He adjusted his cravat meticulously. _What would Elizaveta think of me now?_

He missed her, with her soft smile and twinkling eyes. Her laughter was his chorus, the theme upon his life's song. When she sat next to him at the piano, he played with more care and twice as beautifully, and he felt loved. He felt like his existence was acknowledged and needed.

Roderich cleared his throat, gliding with a light step as he called to his younger _bruder_. It was time to go to war once more, despite his unparalleled hate for it.

* * *

Wyn knew it was dark out. Emotions - the emotions of her conquered people - flickered and conflicted within her, mirroring the crackling fire in her tent. Gilbert, or Prussia, had met nearly no resistance when conquering the nation. Fritz was relieved, proclaiming that _Gott _was with the Prussians. The _reichsadler _of Prussia flew alongside the magnificent _Piasts _eagle of Silesia. Fritz had led his men over several weeks to slowly engulf and control the entire duchy.

Wyn stared at the cloth of her tent, still, and barely breathing, the same as she had done for weeks. She knew there would be trouble and resistance soon. She lay there for a long time, listening to the whispers of the wind and howls of the wolves in her drifting dreams. Not from her people, though; the people of Austria and his allies.

She didn't bother to rise as a person entered her tent. She heard the unbuckling of sheaths and the belts that held guns, the slip of soft leather boots gliding off perfectly formed legs and feet. A man climbed into the bed beside her, almost a ghost with his almost nonexistent warmth. Wyn turned to face him, meeting Gilbert's soft red eyes.

"We're together, Wyn," he slid his rough, graceful hand into hers, fingers knotting together. He gave a light laugh, eyes twinkling and features soft. "We're finally together."

Wyn stared into his eyes, full of happiness. Her soul soared to see him without his battle-hardened, life-hating persona around him, and she felt like light was streaming from her heart to every part of her being.

Gilbert watched as Wyn's lips curled into a beautiful, delicate smile. Despite her weary expression and helpless form, she was the one he wanted. He had always loved her, from the day that he saw her behind Feliks to the day he saw her with a fierce passion to kill.

"Together is not forever," Wyn said softly. She wanted to refuse his touch, refuse all of this…when it could lead to such heartbreak and hurt.

"Then we'll get married," Gilbert promised. "Will you marry me?"

Wyn raised an eyebrow and sighed, cupping Gilbert's smooth, handsome face in her palm. He held her wrist there, savoring the moment.

In human years, Wyn was nineteen; already older than most of the girls that got married in the 18th century. She pondered his statement and sat up. "That's really romantic, you know, Gilbert. No ring, no popping the question, just back from battle. No reasons."

"Is that a _ja_ or a _nein_?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Wyn murmured, pulling her hand away.

Gilbert raised his eyebrow in response, trying to figure out her game. But it wasn't a game; he struggled to maintain his composure but decided to ask for Francis and Antonio's advice later. But for now…he was in the bed of the one he loved more than life. He would never be separated from her ever again, if he could help it.

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, running his hand through her long silver hair. Wyn closed her eyes as his lips brushed over her skin, shivers running down her spine.

She was unsure of what to say, tight-lipped, as she stared into Gilbert's eyes. _An impossible dream._ That was what she was after, the only hope in her heart. Though she thought she was there to take her revenge, she was here to see if fate could deal out as much happiness as she was supposed to receive, to balance the sadness that was thrown at her so recklessly. Was it fair; was it ever fair?

Gilbert, daring, pulled Wyn closer to his chest. Using a light touch and velvet fingers, he grasped the cool Iron Cross that he had given her so long ago. Wyn gently pried his fingers off, turning to face the other way so he couldn't see her tears.

He was determined not to let her go. Not now, not ever.

As he wrapped his long arm around her waist, Wyn was pulled back into his cool warmth. She took a shuddering breath.

_It's all a dream, an impossible dream._

_But I love you._

_When a man's in love, he wants to stay by your side  
There's always so much he wants to do for you  
When I'm in love, I want to give everything in my life to you  
With just one expectation, your heart  
When I'm in love._ (12)

* * *

As he had expected, Fritz read the report from his scouts on the Austrian border. A large army, though smaller than theirs, was on the march to his newly acquired territory of Silesia. He immediately consulted his maps, planning to move so he could defend and cut off the enemy lines. He wanted them to attack them, because the strong fortresses in Silesia were nearly impenetrable. The most important element was to pull and tug on Maria Theresa's less experienced army, to reveal the powerful Prussian army that had been put together by his father.

He looked up from the maps at the slim messenger that stood, waiting for orders, before him. "Bring Gilbert."

"Yes, your highness," the boy answered.

War was the word embraced and embedded deep in Fritz's heart as much as it was in Gilbert's. War was the food upon which Prussia thrived.

* * *

The Prussian wasn't in his tent; the news spread through the camp in a dozen languages, but all conveying the same fact. When Francis and Antonio heard, they began to laugh, their _ohonhonhons_ and _fusososos_ echoing through the camp.

Francis pushed the flap of Gilbert's tent aside and grabbed two of the clean greatcoats from the wardrobe before the two went to Wyn's tent.

"Rise and shine!" Antonio exclaimed as he entered Wyn's sanctuary, Francis following closely behind him.

Poppy and Gilbird chirped at their arrival, rousing Wyn. "_Scheiße! _(2)" she yelled as she sat up. She was only clad in her thin nightgown and the three friends were notorious perverts. "Get out!"

Francis gave her a thin smile. "_Mon ami_ (3), you look very good in the morning!"

Gilbert pulled the screaming Wyn back down under the covers, hand on her hip. "Calm down, frau. _Guten morgen, liebling._ (4)"

"Fritz needs to see you, Gil," Antonio piped up. "News and orders, then breakfast. It's eight already."

"Mmm," Gilbert replied. "We'll be out in five minutes."

"Got some, didn't you?" Francis winked.

"_Nein_," Gilbert retorted.

The friends shared a laugh before exiting the tent.

Gilbert pulled the covers off Wyn, who groaned and tried to slap him. "Come on, beautiful."

"That was embarrassing, Gilbert," she snapped with a red face, obscured by her hair. "Don't call me pet names. I do not belong to you!"

"Come on, up, _liebling_, I'll dress you."

Wyn snorted and tried to kick him out unsuccessfully several more times as Gilbert lifted her up gently and placed her in a chaise, where she curled into a ball. _An impossible dream it's impossible impossible-_

She gawked as Gilbert held out an outfit. "You should wear this today, kesesese," he snickered. It was an embroidered black blouse with a black leather corset on the outside that stopped beneath her breasts, and tight black pants to go with it.

"Gilbert!" Wyn screeched. "That's unseemly, that's inappropriate, that's-"

"Sexy," he smirked. "We're going into battle soon, and this is going to be comfortable. You can take down Roderich or Elizaveta or whoever you hate in this, besides, Elizaveta wears the same thing into battle and when she fights. She's fierce and just as sexy. Besides, you were going to wear something short. We'll be camping in the wild and in the mountains and I don't want your lovely skin marked by the thorns."

Wyn stood, fuming, and ordered him to turn around as she slipped off her nightgown and put on the outfit, with choice swear words. "I look like a _hure_ (5) pirate in this!" she exclaimed.

Gilbert grinned as she told him she was done changing. He surveyed her black boots to her black tricorn and rapier at her waist. "You've forgotten your corset, frau."

She turned a furious red as she blushed. "I-I can't lace myself in-"

Gilbert picked up the item and wrapped it around her thin waist, threading the leather cord through the loops with expert skills. He heard Wyn inhale sharply as he tightened and fastened them.

_He knows because he's been with so many _hures_, _Wyn thought murderously as he draped on of his greatcoats over her shoulders, adjusting it so it was _just right_. He put on his own after that, putting his boots on and adjusting the hat on his head.

"Perfect," he remarked when he saw Wyn. She was radiant in his coat and looked dangerously close to strangling him. He offered her his arm, which she punched before taking.

He chuckled softly as they exited, Wyn blushing furiously, as a couple.

* * *

The wolf whistles were loud and numbered many as soldiers saw them and the news passed from ear to ear. Gilbert and Wyn entered the meeting tent quickly.

"The battle is coming to us, which is _gut_," Fritz explained to the commanders and countries. "We shall march north to the posts and fortresses and defend from there, in the mountains. The Austrians have managed to pull together almost as many troops as us. We shall begin moving shortly after our morning meal. I wish you all a _gut_ meal and we shall begin moving. Meeting dismissed."

The elite began to file out as Fritz motioned for Gilbert to stay.

"Yes, Fritz?" Gilbert asked.

The man gave him a smile. "Sit down, Gilbert. I must congratulate you on winning the territory- and her heart."

"Thank you, sir," Gilbert said, unfazed. He almost began to leave, but Fritz continued to speak.

"Gilbert, you are like _mein_ own son. The child I never had," Fritz began. "I want you to be happy, and I pray you will take my advice to heart."

He obeyed, wondering if this would be _the talk_.

"When you're in love, nothing matters more than the safety of that one person, _ja_? I must tell you that in order to protect Silesia, you much sacrifice much, for _Gott_ did not ordain this campaign in his will. You wanted to take her over and that was your decision. When I am old and gone, many things could happen to _Preußen_, and you must remember where your allegiance lies. To _Gott_ and your country.

"Wyn is an amazing young woman but I fear that she will suffer in those trials just as much as you will in the coming years. You were the one who dragged her into this. I am not blaming you for the world's problems, but that is life. No matter what, you must never forget that one country, Russia, may be your downfall. I see something dark in the future between us. I urge you to protect her but to fear for yourself as well.

"Lastly, loving Wyn will never be because of the battles you fought together. Love can be born on a battlefield but if it is, it will never leave. Let her be your world – do not push her to fight or to be violent. We are a warring nation, Gilbert, but do not let her love only the blood and the glory. Kindness and small moments are what love begins to be built upon. Build your life with her upon that, and never with pain or revenge, for if you do, that is what your love will be.

"Cherish her, Gilbert, for _Gott_ gave her to be your own angel," Fritz finished. He waved him away before allowing him to respond. "You are dismissed."

Gilbert left wordlessly, his advice fresh in his memory. He'd have to consult Francis.

* * *

"Come join us, _mi amigo _(6)!" Antonio called from the table where the countries sat, chatting together casually. Wyn was nowhere to be seen.

A plate brimming with fresh _bratwurst_ (7), scalloped potatoes, and scrambled eggs was set in front of Gilbert. Loaves of bread sat next to jellies and butter in the middle of the table.

"Ohonhonhon, so how did it go?" Francis elbowed Gilbert playfully. "Your girlfriend tired me out the other day, _mon dieu_ (8). She is _tr__é__s bien_ (9) with her rapier."

"I know," Gilbert gave him a tight-lipped smile. "But I need some help in-"

"_Amor_ (10)?" Antonio broke into a grin, his green eyes flashing.

"_Ja_," Gilbert admitted.

"We've shared whores, so you can't be asking about that," Francis began to guess. "A date, maybe?"

"No, we're on the brink of battle," Antonio dismissed the guess. "It must be a proposal!"

Bavaria, with his long hair and several braids, strongly resembled Germania in looks and personality. He was Hesse's older _bruder_, and Wyn's as well. In a low voice, he growled, "You'll never be _gut_ enough for _mein schwester_, _Preußen__._"

"Who asked you?" Antonio defended his friend. "You've probably never even screwed a girl in your life."

"It matters because you are scum that should never mix with our bloodline," he snapped. He took pride in the fact that the German states, though mostly raised by Germania, shared no blood tie with the feuding family.

"And what bloodline would that be, if you don't know your own parents?" Francis jeered. "We're only talking, so leave us in peace."

"It will never happen," Bavaria snarled before leaving.

"Family feud already, whew," Antonio whistled. "That's what your _vida con familia_ (11) will be like."

"So you're proposing," Francis clapped his hands happily together. "I hope you haven't popped the question yet."

Gilbert gritted his teeth. _That was a stupid move._

"Well, first, you must ask permission from her _familia_!" Antonio chirped. "It didn't bode well with Bavaria, so I suggest you ask Christoph, _amigo_. Wyn's closer to him anyways."

"Then you go on a date!" Francis said. "Buy flowers, dinner, a big ring…something with big diamonds and gold or silver. Make it custom. Wyn's got good taste and she's rich, meaning she's hard to impress."

Gilbert was taking careful mental notes as his friends told him all the details of a proposal.

"…and then BAM! You drop on one knee and propose." Francis finished. The tables had all been cleared by that point, and the friends mounted their horses as the camp marched to defend the territory from the advancing Austrians.

* * *

**(1) Good day (in German)**

**(2) Shit! (also fuck) (in German)**

**(3) My friend (in French)**

**(4) Good morning, darling (in German)**

**(5) Whore (in German)**

**(6) My friend (in Spanish)**

**(7) Pork sausage, commonly eaten at breakfast (in German)**

**(8) My god (in French)**

**(9) Very good (in French)**

**(10) Love (in Spanish)**

**(11) Family life (in Spanish)**

**(12) Man in Love by INFINITE - just thought this would fit! an amazing song!**

**Lots of translations this chapter! Whew! This is our longest chapter to date... :) Over 3,400 words. Yay me! But I couldn't have done it without you, lovely reader. Thank you everyone for your following and your kind reviews. I take all of them into consideration and you may notice that chapter 16 was severely edited after an excellent review thanks to stormjade. I will continue to write...(STAR TEST! SAT! SO MANY TESTS) because there is wayyy too much time on my hands from those tests.**

**Please enjoy and I am happy to announce that there are only 3 - THREE! - chapters left before _Jaded_. The next chapter will be bloody. The chapter after that is dramatic. The last chapter is...well, you're going to hate me for it. ;) But that's all part of writing! And you can affect the next chapters by R&R-ing!**

**If you can, I really need your READ AND REVIEWS! PLEASE! ALL COMMENTS APPRECIATED (unless you're a hater).**


	18. Chapter 18 - Dawning of a New Day

***WARNING: HISTORY IS NOT ALL ACCURATE, HOWEVER, I HAVE TRIED TO STICK TO FACTS AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE***

***BAD LANGUAGE AHEAD IN CHAPTER***

* * *

Mollwitz. Wyn watched Gilbert's lips bare a deadly smile as he led his troops, alongside Fritz, to the location of the battle. Antonio and Francis, along with their troops, had split off, going to subdue the Austrian allies scattered across Europe and in far-flung lands beyond Wyn's imagination. They were several miles away from the camp on the Oder River, racing to meet the Austrians at the town of Mollwitz before they could be cut off from the Prussian supply lines. The Silesians had been discharged, their homeland conquered. With Prussians sure of victory, the hundreds of thousands of soldiers had been reduced to almost twenty-three thousand. Lucky men were allowed to return home with a paycheck.

They overlooked the town from the hills, the battlefield spread out before them. The ground was flat and not too-heavily covered with plants, making it ideal for the elite Prussian infantry. However, the thick frosts of April had not melted yet.

"We'll station out main force and camp between these hills. Command on the top. I want Schwerin on the other hill and eyes on _Österreich _(1) at all times. Cavalry on the foothills. Make camp quickly," Fritz ordered, disappointed that Austria had already arrived at Mollwitz.

Battle was inevitable. They had to break through the Austrian lines to get back to Prussian supplies.

Wyn watched as the Prussians assembled their camp, knowing she had time to spare. Neipperg, only a Field Marshal, had only twenty-two thousand troops with him. She was still deep in her own territory, giving her a warm sense of home.

She wanted to see his reaction as the _dummkopf_ (2) Austrians, facing away from their troops and ready to run, found her and Gilbert on their doorstep.

* * *

It was early morning and the light was dim as it scattered across the Silesian landscape. Wyn stirred from her bed, forgetting that Gilbert was alongside her. She kicked him in the stomach, and he groaned. "What was that for, frau?"

She sat up with a jolt. "Stop sneaking into my bed, Gil!"

"Kesesese, you know you can't sleep without _mich_," he said with a smirk.

Wyn snarled. "We have to get up. Fritz is calling the troops together so we can stab the filthy pigs in their warm little camps. This is _my_ _town_. We can destroy it for all I care. Austrian sympathies, what a load of _kacke_ (3)."

"That's my woman," Gilbert rubbed her shoulders. "Swearing like a sailor- I like it!"

"Maybe when all of this is over, I'll go sailing," Wyn confessed.

"You shall have whatever you want, _liebe_, but for now, get out of bed. Kesesese, you're so cute when you're stubborn."

Gilbert stood, pulling his slim gray trousers on and leaving his shirt untucked. He pulled an ultramarine doublet over it, tying his white sash with his scabbard and looping his brown gun belt over it. He slipped his cravat into his shirt and pulled on boots. "How do I look, frau?"

"You're missing your jacket and hat," Wyn accused.

"I could say the same for you."

She put on one of Gilbert's jackets over her outfit, the one he wanted her to wear. He gazed at her with affection, warmth radiating from his toes to his head. He struggled to maintain his cool composure, but the way she looked at him made him want to pull her close and stay curled like cats for eternity. That was how Wyn made him feel- safe yet strong, warm yet shivering, like lightning pulsed through his every breath.

Wyn winked at Gilbert before exiting the tent abruptly.

* * *

The air, thick with frost and heavy mist, hung like a second cloak over Wyn's shoulders. She breathed in and felt a comforting hand on her shoulder- Bavaria, accompanied by Sweden. Wilhelm hated Gilbert with his casual way of walking, his unrestrained cursing, and unrefined lifestyle. They had always been on bad terms, especially with Bavaria leaving the Germanic family earlier than any of the other siblings. Prussia had never really known him, and even though they were allies, the country still called Bavaria by his country name, not his human one. He didn't know the human one.

"Wyn, what is our plan of attack?" her older _bruder_ Wilhelm asked her gently. Berwald grunted in agreement.

"We will stay with the main infantry and the _König_ (4)," Wyn said. "We'll advance while we still have cover. Keep your powder dry."

"That _König_ has no field experience, and you expect to follow _him_?" Wilhelm demanded in disbelief.

"His _vater_ trained and raised the Prussian soldiers into-"

"_Nein_, that was his _vater_, not Friedrich. Admit that you will lose, _schwester_. We can still leave this pointless war," Wilhelm snorted. "Before either your _arsch_ is shot or _his_ army lies in tatters."

Berwald broke in. "Wyn, I must urge you to think sensibly. Your participation in this battle is not an element that may be necessary. Besides, you are not a warring nation. You are a nation of prosperity and opportunity."

"There will be neither prosperity nor opportunity if I am conquered by Austria again. Poland was alright, but I do not know him well enough to return. He must be deeply wounded from the last war- the War of Polish Succession. Besides," Wyn gave her brothers a soft smile. "I am a German nation. I fight when there are no wars; I am allied with those whose violence is within their blood. It is only right that I have received those same qualities."

"_Verdammnt_, you sound like Gilbert. I will kill that-"

"And I'm dating Prussia, the most warring nation of them all. There's no stopping me, Wilhelm. Berwald, _Ich hab' Dich lieb _(5)_, _but I've grown up now. Don't worry about _mich_."

"We are family," Wilhelm gave her a strong embrace. "Meiers have always been the German States. Though you may love and embrace the Beilschmidts, remember that without our support, they cease to exist. Be careful, _schwester_. I will stand behind you."

Berwald nodded in agreement. "There's much to live for in our history. Endure and do not throw away your life harshly. Let us make a new chapter of it today."

Wyn grinned in response to her brothers' grudging agreement to let her run free. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to control her future once and for all. Who cared if she made mistakes? She would learn, she would change. If it meant going through pain and suffering, she would live on with it.

Fritz was determined to use the advantage of the weather against the Austrians, who were camped facing northwest. His troops were undetected, unseen as they marched in the early-morning fog and low-hanging clouds. They were now within four thousand paces of the Austrians, three thousand, two thousand. He held up his hand and the army simultaneously halted.

Beside him, Count Schwerin, his experienced advisor, suggested that they order the troops to charge and kill the Austrians in their sleep. He had also mentioned a miscalculation between the troops marching towards the Austrians and the units stationed around the river. It was still morning, but some of the Austrians had woken already. Gilbert was eager to see their expressions as they attacked.

Startlingly, Fritz refused to listen to his chief commander. He was determined to win this battle through his own tactics, to make Prussia proud. He wanted to show his learning from his father to the world.

* * *

von Neipperg, Maria Theresa's trusted advisor and commander, was stationed in a quaint little house of the wealthiest family in Mollwitz. Their house was two stories tall, the highest in the town. It was still early, and he did not want to wake his troops yet. He lit his pipe, inhaling the sweet taste of tobacco into his large lungs. It was still foggy out, but who cared? The sun was beginning to come out, to illuminate-

He did a double-take. Were those _Prussian _uniforms scarce 2000 paces away from the first line of troops at the edge of the camp?

He stared, willing the low clouds to open up more.

The vivid blue stood out against the landscape of Silesia, and he sputtered and choked, scrambling to pick up the fallen pipe. The house was filled with the shouting of orders for the Austrians to assemble.

* * *

"My liege, you should have ordered an attack!" Schwerin protested, watching the purple uniforms rush to prepare and get into formation.

"I do not slay helpless men," Fritz defended himself.

"They had guns, and now you've-"

Fritz held up his white-gloved hand. "No more, Count Schwerin. We shall wait for them to come to us."

To his side, Gilbert frowned deeply.

It was one o'clock when von Neipperg had assembled his men sufficiently enough to begin fighting. "I want Römer to hook around the right and crush the cavalry there, then charge the infantry. Do not allow them room to shoot."

The commanders nodded as von Neipperg shouted orders. The opposing armies began to tense, knowing someone would move first.

The artillery fired and the horses began to gallop towards the Prussian cavalry. In the chaos of the dust and shells, they were wiped out in almost an instant. The shouting and screaming was endless, and Wyn gripped her reins tighter, her knuckles turning white. A callused palm covered hers as she watched. "_Mut und Disziplin _(6), Wyn," Wilhelm reminded her. "This is not your first war."

"I know, I just hate...seeing-"

"You will get used to it. You will have to," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Your majesty, the battle is faring badly and I suggest you retreat," Schwerin rushed into their watching group.

"Is there no hope of victory?" Fritz demanded.

"_Führer _(7), _bitte_, leave if your life is in danger," Gilbert looked at Fritz, his eyes begging.

Wyn glared at Count Schwerin, knowing something was dark inside his mask of obedience to the crown. "Do not steal the glory, Schwerin," she snarled before turning to Fritz. "If he advises for you to leave, then please preserve your life, Fritz. Unlike some of us, you have only one life to live."

He nodded. "Then let us win the war."

Gilbert stared helplessly as he watched his king's figure fade into the distance, before seeing purple uniforms narrow and chase him down. He yelled and charged after Fritz. He couldn't let him die.

There was an explosion and Wyn was knocked off her horse. She blinked hard before unsheathing her saber, rushing into the battle. Prussians were being slain left and right by the Austrian cavalry and their faces were full of fear as they struggled whether to stand their ground or to fire when ordered. Their flank was being slaughtered and the infantry was wide open to be slain line by line.

She couldn't believe this was happening.

They were supposed to be _victorious_ and she should have been laughing as Roderich was being crushed and humiliated before her eyes.

She got to her feet, running to the helpless lines of Prussian infantry. "If you are the greatest army in the world, show them!" she cried. "We cannot be slain. We must prevail. Don't wait for an order that will never come- aim and fire!"

The soldiers stared at her with wide eyes. They knew a woman was within their ranks, but what were they supposed to do? Listen to her and fire? Wait for their commander to get up from the shrapnel?

Wyn pointed her sword at the cavalry. "Don't give in! Don't wait for Death to beckon you! By _Gott_, Fire!"

A few began to scramble for powder and rammed their shots down their muskets. They were slow- and every second they wasted was a dozen men dead. There were screams of horses and the acrid smell of burning flesh and fresh blood in the air.

She turned from the confused and shattered infantry to the advancing cavalry. Wyn saw the gaze and glint of glasses in the sun- Roderich was coming for her with a cruel smile.

"_Mehr sein als scheinen_ (8)!" she cried hoarsely. "_Bitte, Gott!_"

A whistle of bullets piercing through the air answered her cry, and the infantry was already reloading. They were famous for their performance, firing 4 to 5 shots per minute with flintlock muskets.

It was happening. She was turning Fate's hand around.

In both tears and a smile, she shouted for them to reload and fire again and again. The cavalry was faltering, and in an instant, the battle was changed.

A man in a highly-decorated military suit, in purple, fell from his horse- General Römer, their commander. The Austrians were the ones running now, both units of cavalry falling back. Schwerin had regained his senses and was ordering a general advance of all the Prussian forces.

Wyn watched Roderich tumble off his dead horse and advanced. This was her revenge, this was _her_ moment.

Nothing could take it away from her.

* * *

Gilbert raced on his horse to intercept the people chasing after his _König_. He knew it was changing Fate to do such a thing- he had no way to change the future, but he was determined not to let Fate take the man that had become his father for such a short time. Old Fritz had raised a poor nation into one of the most powerful in the world. He couldn't lose him now.

He pulled one of his dueling pistols out as he urged his horse faster. _Verdammnt_, couldn't it go any faster? The distance began to narrow, scarcely a hundred and fifty metres away. He couldn't fire until about eighty, especially on a horse.

Gilbert watched as the assassins raised their pistols and swords and prayed before he squeezed the trigger.

With a small explosion, the gun kicked back and he prepared his second shot, shuddering when he saw one rider on the ground. He had shot one down.

One more shot.

Five more assassins.

If he made them all, there would be two to kill.

They were narrowing down on his _König._

He moved on to the second pistol.

Two shots. One shot.

The distance was narrowing.

With a cry, he brought his sword down on the head of the nearest assassin, ducking when he heard the whistle of another sword being aimed at him. He whipped around to behead the other one as their horses slowed to a halt.

Fritz stared for a long time at Gilbert, who was breathing harshly.

"I will never, ever leave my army behind ever again," he swore.

The white-haired young man stared back at him in awe and in disbelief. That was all he had ever wanted from Fritz- a father that wouldn't abandon him and his troops to Fate. Fritz broke into a small smile and patted him on the head, laughing at Gilbert's shocked expression.

* * *

An officer shouted to Schwerin when he saw that the leaders of the Austrian cavalry had fallen. "Where should we retreat to?"

Schwerin gave a snarl. "We'll retreat over the bodies of our enemies, fool."

* * *

Roderich staggered and stood, raising a broadsword over his head. With a yell, he charged at Wyn, who met his blow with a clash of sparks. He used the best of his abilities to engage the silver-haired nation in their duel.

Wyn was breathing hard. She hadn't expected an attack- not from Roderich, certainly. And he had improved, making her confidence falter. She remembered how Francis had defeated her so easily, as a younger nation.

The fear was overwhelming and she began to freeze up. She shouldn't be losing to Roderich, she shouldn't be-

Oops.

Mistakes were fatal in her case and Roderich grinned. He hadn't been expecting the ability to even overpower her in a single way.

She lay on her back, at his mercy, on the snowy land that she was supposed to represent.

* * *

_White hair, iridescent eyes._

I grasped my rapier, sharp and thin, tall and long like me, in my right hand. The man flashed a daunting, cruel smile at me, his brown hair messy, and his thick broadsword gripped easily in his large hand. He was significantly taller than me, by seven inches, and his glasses caught the early morning light. I squinted, refusing to let it blind me.

I prepared to die, making peace with myself before I lunged at him.

* * *

Is it possible for a nation to die in combat?

Wyn wanted to know.

She wanted to know desperately, she wanted to prove something wrong before her death.

Roderich knocked her aside and she rolled, gasping as the cold snow buried itself in her shirt. It coursed down her damp back, burning where they touched shrapnel wounds that Wyn hadn't noticed earlier. His blade grazed her right cheek in a two-inch scrape, cutting into her flesh deeply. She cried out.

Their swords met again and she parried, playing the defense game. She could only prolong her death. _No chance of winning_. Roderich was toying with her, not letting her have enough time to get up. When did he become so strong? How?

So many unanswered questions.

He struck her sword with an uncanny strength that she didn't recognize. It was Roderich defeating her, and she tried to hoist herself up from the ground. _I will not grovel at his feet. I will not die in vain- I will die and leave people and the land ringing with the effects of my death for-_

_**Clang**_.

The sound was unbelievably loud, but everything moved in a haze now. It was all a blur as she let her lifeblood seep across the sand in a red cloak around her. A small breeze wove its way through her hair and stopped suddenly, and again it breathed upon her skin. Who was her defender? They were moving fast, in a white and red blur…

Wyn fell back heavily, reaching for her sword. _Who was her defender?_

Iridescent eyes glazed over with the black that she had waited for so long.

* * *

Gilbert was in a rage once more, red and black filling his sight. _Where was she? She couldn't be dead. Nations couldn't die- could they? _He wanted to know desperately if she lived or died, where she was. He wanted to cradle her perfect face in his hands and brush away any of her stubborn opinions. Gilbert wanted to hold her, kiss her, and be next to her in all things.

He screamed and felt a hand on his shoulder. Fritz. Could Fritz calm him now, when he had lost everything important to him?

Everything was happening too fast, too fast for him to comprehend. It was all a blur to him- was it the same for her? Or had she left him willingly, like so long ago?

"She'll be fine," Fritz assured Gilbert. "She's a hardy girl, she'll make it through. With or without you."

It was exactly what he never wanted to hear.

The Prussian army didn't wait for his sorrow to cease; instead, they kept moving, on to Chotusitz in Bohemia. They were far from their homeland now, and far from wherever Wyn had to be. It was another year without her, another year of grief and sorrow. And blood.

"Mollwitz was my school," Fritz said later on. They had won the Battle of Chotusitz with the addition of more Hussars, the light cavalry. Wyn would have loved them- she was always a good friend of the infantry, but relied more on the cavalry. She loved horses. The Hussars would have been her personal regiment, one the wore her colors. If she ever returned, Gilbert would order them to take the colors of Silesia.

The _reichsadler_ had lost its mate.

After Chotusitz was Sahay- the French, led by Francis, had an extremely successful campaign. Half the losses of the Austrians. Gilbert seethed at the thought of Wyn in Roderich's grasp once more: he hadn't seen the prick since Mollwitz.

The defeat at Dettingen. It whirled in his mind as a black mark on their record- they hadn't been that far away when England, Hanover, and Austria had surrounded Francis. He couldn't rely on them any longer.

The war stretched years. Years without Wyn. Days were measured in hope and in false promises, fake calls that angered him more.

Victories didn't matter. He could scour all of Europe and not find her.

Then came Hohenfriedberg. Fritz's crowning glory. Gilbert beside him, facing one of Wyn's siblings- Saxony- with Roderich. It was an engagement that marked his rise as a country. But instead, it left him with an unsatisfying guilt that he had almost killed her older _bruder_. Saxony was a _bruder_ to him, too, long ago: Saxony was the one that had taught him how to stay light on his feet and dance with his sword. He had the same sarcastic qualities. But war made everything twisted and unseemly, pushing aside morals and right from wrong in a horde that swept everything away.

More war.

Soor, Bohemia. He faced Roderich and Saxony again. Victory.

He remembered glimpses of Fritz's triumphant smile, trying to assure Gilbert that they would find Wyn by the end. He was happy that this succession of victories would lead to the end of the war.

Prussia had not quenched his thirst yet.

Their army had run in circles around Bohemia but they always returned to Silesia. This only hurt Gilbert more: every return was like a respite, but also a stabbing breath as he waited for no one to receive him home with wide arms.

He faced sadistic violet eyes as Ivan Braginsky, or Russia, laughed. Gilbert lunged and parried, kicking out with every ounce of energy. Ivan laughed. "My little sunflower, I'll have you one day."

Spring green eyes, like a thousand pieces of grass. Arthur snarled as he struck Francis with might, but the Frenchman simply gave a thin-lipped smile and pushed Arthur away with the grace of a cat. "Damn you to hell, you bloody prick!"

Antonio stared at the mirrored green eyes of Lars, thinking only _Bella._ He couldn't bring himself to hurt Bella's beloved brother. Lars exhaled a sickly sweet breath into his face and they began to fight again. _Opium ruined him_. He wouldn't hurt Lars, but he couldn't help thinking how unfair the world had been made. Bella deserved a brother that would care for her, not endanger her.

* * *

A last battle. A dawn. Glory and power.

Gilbert found himself staring blankly at the terror and death he dealt out. It was almost if he was caught between glass and a dream, floating in between. Francis was exuberant, and Antonio provided his usual energy. Roderich, Saxony, Arthur, Lars, sadistic, haunting Ivan, and Sardinia were falling back.

Then he appeared.

Holy Roman Empire.

Gilbert froze, shaking. The _bruder_ that he loved and hated, the one that had decided to help _Roderich_ of all people. The losing side. Time seemed to stop and freeze.

He thought he heard Wyn's voice calling out to him, but he didn't know what she was saying. She haunted him now, made him guilty. All he could see were her iridescent eyes sparkling.

Gilbert's vision cleared and he stared down the end of his sword, dislodging it from his brother's body. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

_I've gone absolutely mad. I no longer deserve to live. No, not without her. Not with this guilt and sin in me. _Gott_, just take me now. I want to go home. I want to see her face shining in your light._

"_Gilbert, I've never left you,_" Wyn was saying. No, it couldn't be her. It was only him and his shattered mind now.

He looked at his hands. The hands of a murderer.

_You will find peace_.

Gilbert didn't know how long he knelt there by his _bruder_'s side until Francis touched him lightly on the shoulder. Gilbert looked up at him with teary eyes. Francis was taken back by this unknown emotion, of pity and brotherhood for his best friend. He didn't deserve this, not at all. But that was his kindness speaking.

"_Mon ami_, are you alright?" Francis spoke the first words to this new Gilbert.

"_Nein_, I never will be," Gilbert coughed out. "I don't deserve to be."

"Look!" Antonio pointed at the stirring body of Holy Roman Empire.

The color drained from the already pale albino's face. _No. It can't be. I don't- I don't deserve a second chance._

Electric blue eyes stared into Gilbert's crimson ones and he had never thought his _bruder_ had ever looked so tiny or so scared.

"Who am I? Who are you?"

Gilbert took a shuddering breath and wrapped his blue cloak around his little _bruder_. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. Your older _bruder_. Don't you remember me?" He tried to crack a half-smile.

The boy shook his head. "But who am I?"

"Ludwig. You are Ludwig," Gilbert repeated. _I will never let you know your past, or my past. I murdered you. _Gott_, why would you do this to me? _

_I must be someone more, a new person._

_I must forget too._

This was the beginning of a new day.

_Who am I?_  
_ Can I conceal myself for evermore?_  
_ Pretend I'm not the man I was before?_  
_ And must my name until I die_  
_ Be no more than an alibi?_  
_ Must I lie?_  
_ How can I ever face my fellow men?_  
_ How can I ever face myself again?_  
_ My soul belongs to God, I know_  
_ I made that bargain long ago_  
_ He gave me hope when hope was gone_  
_ He gave me strength to journey on_  
_ Who am I? Who am I?_ (9)

* * *

**(1) Austria**

**(2) dummy/idiot**

**(3) crap/shit**

**(4) king**

**(5) I love you. (to a family member/close friend)**

**(6) Courage and discipline (two of the Prussian virtues)**

**(7) father (leader) - popularized by Adolf Hitler**

**(8) Be stronger than you appear to be! (Prussian virtue)**

**(9) Who Am I from Les Misérables - it seemed right and I was inspired!**

**So, thanks for all of your patience and long wait :) I'm so terribly sorry I wasn't able to update. But look! LONGEST CHAPTER broken again! Over 4500 words to keep you gnashing your teeth until chapter 19. 2 chapters left! I'm so excited.**

**A new chapter for a new month...yippee! I hope you enjoyed this. Don't forget to READ AND REVIEW, favorite, like, follow, etc. Please give me some feedback so I can work to improve _Undoubtedly_ and make a better plot for the next few chapters! I can't wait to start _Jaded_. :) I hope you can't either!**

**PLEASE READ & REVIEW. ALL COMMENTS EXTREMELY APPRECIATED. You should see me excited when I see a new review! They make my day! **

**Don't forget to check out my other fanfics: _Serenity _(a KorTai fanfic)  
**

_**Familie**_**(a series of oneshots about the Meiers/German states)**

_**In**** Essence **_**(a Pottertalia fanfic...AU)**


	19. Chapter 19 - Trembling Leaf

Wyn was drowning in a world of pain and longing. She thought she had her future – and Gilbert- in her grasp. It was there, barely there now, a mere glimpse at what _could have been._ To her, it was what _should have been_. It was hard to remember his face without its snarl, without the deep creases in his forehead. She could sense red and black, the time passing, and the searing pain from the shrapnel in her back. Every day she writhed in it, the ghosts of the pieces digging into her flesh.

She could barely escape through the narrow gap that was sleep, and only for a short while. She felt hands on her convulsing, tightened muscles as heat and cold alternated on her damaged body. It was a never ending experience that left her more scarred than before.

Was she still a country? Had Feliks suffered this after his own war? Would she ever recover?

She didn't want to live anymore. It was just pain and sorrow and war, the undeniable faults of life. _Why, _Gott? _Why?_

A bandage covered her cheek and she felt the scar tissue when she tried to relax her head on the pillow. The seasons were passing quickly as she lay in agony, unable to move and cry out. Wyn was sore and tired beyond belief, begging to let go of her futile grip on life.

* * *

Ludwig stared accusingly at his older _bruder_ as they trekked across the rugged terrain. Gilbert tried to avoid those bright blue eyes as much as possible, but he was growing to love this _bruder_ that followed him faithfully and courageously. He was so different from the cruel, stern younger Holy Roman Empire that Gilbert couldn't bring himself to hate and resent him.

The year was 1748 and they were entering the gates of Aachen, the imperial capital of the Holy Roman Empire. Gilbert was surprised that Ludwig was still technically Holy Roman Empire, even though the territories were now scattered and breaking up. He had clung to existence in the history and past of Ludwig now, forever a part of him.

The brothers' boots crunched simultaneously in the patches of snow that still remained in much of the countries. But Aachen, the beautiful little town, was further south than Prussia and Silesia and Austria, therefore the snow melted away earlier. It allowed the vibrant, hopeful peaks of edelweiss and cornflowers to spring up beneath the cold.

Aachen was a spa, with natural warmth bubbling to the surface as it warmed the earth above. It was prosperous and at the beginning of April, alive with its flowers and wildlife blooming and breathing in the fresh air.

Gilbert smiled sadly, remembering Wyn. He thought of her every day, in every spare moment, but he had accepted that she was gone. It had been too many years, and his allies had torn apart almost the combined continents of Europe, Asia, America, and even southern Africa to look for her. Maybe she had simply faded. Maybe she had been taken and killed.

He never let himself forget that it was _his fault._

He pushed it aside, leaving it in the darkness of his mind. It was his cross to bear now, a heavy load that stabbed at his conscience. He tried to forget for the sake of his _bruder_.

* * *

Gilbert ruffled Ludwig's blond hair, steering him towards the congress that had assembled to discuss the peace treaty. His friends and allies studied his appearance when he walked in. He didn't see the dark shadows under his eyes, the gaunt look of his already lean body. Though he was albino, he was even paler. Even Antonio and Francis, who were smiling when they saw their usually cocky friend, sobered when the Beilschmidts entered the room.

Fritz, seeing this, didn't want to embarrass or make a big deal out of Gilbert's pitiful appearance. He would speak with him later. He had to appear strong, as a conqueror, in front of Maria Theresa especially.

Gilbert stared at the appearance of Elizaveta next to Roderich. He hadn't expected to see her here, with her bright green eyes and silky hair. Roderich glared at him when he saw her looking at Elizaveta- had she become more than just a trade to him?

So many things had changed. Seven years ago, he would have had his _engel_ (1) with him. If she hadn't disappeared, she would be here beside him, with a thin-lipped smile and making a sarcastic remark about their victory. The victory belonged to her, who sacrificed so much in that first battle. And now she was gone.

Ludwig stared blankly at the treaty that his _bruder_ was about to sign, unaware of its connection to him and his past. To him, it was only a piece of paper. This innocent viewpoint, so trusting and faithful, was what Gilbert wanted for himself as a child. He promised to raise him the best he could.

The countries and their leaders signed the document, which was collected by Vash for safekeeping. They had all gotten something out of it, and the war wasn't all useless.

Prussia had proved its might, and that was what was important to Gilbert. He could go home and raise Ludwig in peace now, or so he hoped. They'd be a pair of military dogs for sure.

Fritz beckoned Gilbert. "Now that there is peace, I hope you are at peace as well in your heart. _Sohn_ (2), do not hesitate to come to me and speak. I am truly sorry. I hoped to see the two of you married. Go and raise Ludwig well. I will cover your place until you are ready to see politics and more war again. Be at peace, Gilbert. You cannot change the past."

Gilbert nodded, choking back his tears. _I promised not to cry over you again. This is not only for you but for Ludwig. I'll raise him like the child that we would have had. I'll be a _bruder_ and a _vati_ to him, his _mutti _and his _schwester_. You taught me to love, Wyn. In that short time, you washed away my bloodthirst. That could not have happened without you._

He could almost hear Wyn's response, the stanzas of her beautiful soul singing it to him like a lullaby. Even though she was gone.

_Rather than me without you,_

_You without me makes me more worried_

_Because you're not good at doing things on your own_

_Will you be alright? Even if I'm not by your side?_

_You get lonely so easily so even if you're alone_

_Will you be alright? Without a person to argue with_

_Without a person to joke around and laugh with_

_If it's okay with you_

_Think of it twice, think it through again_

_(If you leave me) Will you really be alright without me?_

_Because you're clumsy at everything without me_

_Because the you that I know is like a child_

_Where are you going? Why do you want to go?_

_Where are you going? Oh, oh why do you want to go?_

_In the end, you start to cry – what am I supposed to do now?_

_How can I let you go? You are going to fall apart. _(3)

* * *

Lars took a long breath from his pipe, the sweet opium bringing relief to his trembling hands and nerves. How could he face his former enemy and tell him that despite all his pain, Wyn was alive?

He took another drag from the long pipe, briskly walking out of the conference room as soon as they were done. Bella had urged him to tell the self-destructive, mourning Gilbert, but that wasn't his problem, right?

Another drag. _She's not even healed yet._

A deep breath. _She might not survive. She's hanging on the edge of death, not life._

Lars coughed and sighed, putting the pipe back in his mouth.

_She's not my responsibility._

Oh, yes she was. He was the one who saved her from the furious Roderich.

He walked out of the conference room and decided it was up to someone else to face the matter. Bella would be mad, but he could always escape back to the dens. That was a good plan. Lars walked into the landscape of Aachen, eager to make his way back north.

* * *

**(1) angel**

**(2) son**

**(3) Will You Be Alright by BEAST (SO FITTING! I loved this song and I was listening while writing this chappie)**

**So, we're almost at the end! It's definitely a short chapter, but it all ties into the next book, _Jaded_. Or should I say fanfic? More twists coming but it is almost the end, one more chapter. It will wrap things up for _Undoubtedly_ and I'm really glad I've made it this far. I also felt like we needed a lighter load for this chapter, especially with all the 3K+ and 4K+ chapters before. It's been a pileup and it's easier to write a short one this time, sorry guys!**

**Thank you for your support! Please READ AND REVIEW like always :) I hope you're still on your toes this far into the fanfic. Suggestions are welcome.**

**But for now, READ AND REVIEW!**

**3**


	20. Chapter 20 - From Today On

She stood over the crashing waves, the windmills turning in the distance. It was an amazing and breathtaking sight, almost unbelievable how the country had been able to thrive in this place, where land and sea battled for every square inch.

Then there were the flowers, in all their vibrant colors. The tulips bloomed in families, in miles, in acres, as a reminder that every day was a fight to survive, whether you were human or flower or animal. It was as much a savage place as a paradise, and it was where Wyn had found herself after all those years.

She sat down slowly, the scars on her body still struggling to close and fade. She sat wishing the tulips were red poppies. She remembered some of it now, the feeling of her big brother telling her that the red poppies were a symbol of love and care. These tulips were symbols of love, too, but their dark centers connected with the sins of the heart.

The last thing she remembered was Gilbert, riding away from her. She was confused. _I thought you loved me. Why would you leave-?_

Lars nudged her with his tall knee, and she shot up, wincing when she felt the sudden sharp pain from the shrapnel. Would it ever leave her? Could she still fight? He reached out instinctively to steady her, holding her in a half-embrace. She had grown used to it, to his rough manner but sweet interior. His ice green eyes always watched her in concern. Was Lars really so wasted, like Christoph had told her long ago? Here, when he was by her side, he was gentle, like with Bella.

"_Alles goed met je__?_ (1)" he asked with concern. He had taught her some Dutch, which was easy to understand because it was so close to German. She missed her language, but she wanted to forget now. The Germanic family was her first love, but now she was broken because of those ties.

"_Ja _(2)," she replied, shaking.

"_Nee__, __je bent niet__._ _Leugenaar. _(3)"

Wyn looked into his ice-green eyes. "Silly. I'll survive. I always have."

"You look out towards the sea. Does it call to you now?"

"_Ja._ I admit it has." She pulled out his pipe with a teasing smile. "Does it sing to you too?"

"I will be leaving soon. Everyone is taking to the seas- a new age is dawning. Wars are over but our navies still battle in far-flung corners of the water. And everyone is prosperous- why not make the best of it? Piracy is the way our people are changing towards, therefore it affects us too. The ports are all wild now."

"Is Bella going?"

"_Nee _(4)_!_ Of course not!"

She bit her lip, remembering Vash and Lili. Lars' protectiveness over his sister, even when he was high off the opium, was always there. That fact was assured, and it gave Wyn comfort to know that his heart still existed under his tough exterior.

His large hands were on her waist and she looked up into his eyes. He was incredibly tall, taller than Gilbert, and his spiked hair made him even more intimidating. "Take me with you."

"Of course I will."

Lars leaned down to pluck a rare black tulip for her as she adjusted the blue and white striped scarf around his neck. Together, they looked out to the crashing ripples of water, an uncertain fate waiting to be charted. They were entering a second age of Pirates, where gentlemen and self-righteous thieves blended in together.

* * *

Ludwig happily scurried around the bright blue cornflowers of the estate. _Do you really not remember?_ Gilbert wondered. The place had used to be so lively, and though it was well cared for, it had not seen its inhabitants nor a full family for decades. Now it was just Ludwig and Gilbert and Gilbird.

He smiled as he watched his _bruder's_ small blond head bob around the tall grasses. He wore the _lederhosen_, the usual dress for boys of his age. They were plain shorts with suspenders, and he wore a crisp white shirt under it. Ludwig romped through the highlands without fear, a trait that Gilbert wanted him to have. He had happily taken on the role of a teacher and role model for the boy who used to be Holy Roman Empire, creating a persona that rotated around "awesomeness" and his old days as the Teutonic Order as a knight in shining armor. Luddy looked up to him with such a determined expression that Gilbert's heart stung with the knowledge that he _had killed him_.

"Herr Beilschmidt!" a voice cut through the cool air, calling to Gilbert. A page was running towards him with a frightened look on his face. Gilbert stood to his full height and called for Ludwig to stand by him.

"_Ja?_" he stared at the young blond boy, who held out a note in thick creamy paper to Gilbert.

"War," he said breathlessly. It was 1756.

Gilbert frowned and put his hat on his head. It was time to support his _f__ü__hrer _again. He had had 8 years of peace to reinvent himself- why not join Fritz? It was probably against Roderich again, and this time he wanted to tear the dark-haired pianist apart.

Loyalty was the trait that kept Gilbert from drowning in his grief.

* * *

Thus began the Seven Years' War, a hard thing without Wyn to face. As Gilbert and his people struggled to keep their western borders, he always kept a force in Silesia. He never wanted to lose the territory again, or even risk it. Without Wyn, his former allies in the War of Austrian Succession turned to join Roderich- the traitors.

Old Man Fritz looked to Gilbert with tired eyes. "We ought to try preserving what's left of us for my nephew."

"_Bitte_, Fritz," Gilbert pleaded to his boss. "Hold on longer. We'll survive. Prussia always attacks. Look to the resources your _vater_ left you."

The _k__ö__nig_ looked up with wide eyes. "_Ja._ That's it. We are going to make it through this war victorious. We are _Preussen_."

Through a miracle, Empress Elizabeth of Russia died, undermining Austria's allied effort. Peter III, her successor, was a close friend and supporter of Prussia, ending the war quickly. Though Gilbert hated Ivan and all he stood for, he was grateful that the new ruler of their greatest enemy had no hatred towards his country. That would've been messy.

Gilbird chirped from his shoulder, reminding him that he still had to return home.

After shaking hands with the interesting young boy that was Fritz's _aide-de-camp_, Gilbert mounted his horse to return home. There was something about that boy that would prove important later.

As Gilbert rode over the hill, a familiar face drew a rare smile from his face. "Luddy! Did you miss the awesome _mich_?"

Ludwig laughed in response, handing his beloved _bruder_ a sprig of edelweiss. Though Gilbert hated the flower of Austria, it meant a true soldier and courage to Ludwig's people. It took those traits to climb to the highest parts of the mountain to retrieve it. He put it in his lapel, jumping down from his horse to embrace Ludwig.

"I brought this back for you," he said, handing the boy an iron cross. Fritz had taken note of it and had two made, one for Ludwig and one for himself.

Ludwig turned the black medal in his hand, putting it around his neck immediately. "This is almost as awesome as you, _bruder!_"

Gilbert chuckled and nodded in agreement. "That's right, Ludwig. Almost as awesome as _mich._"

* * *

"_Willkommen zu Berlin_ (4), Gilbert," Fritz said as they rode in on their magnificent horses. Banners displaying the _reichsadler_ flew from every balcony, and the unity and pride the Prussian people took in the flag made Gilbert yearn for Ludwig to be here. They were celebrating the survival of Fritz and the nation from the Seven Years War.

The country of Prussia admired the well-maintained buildings and new monuments in the city. The Berlin State Opera, Royal Library, St. Hedwig's Cathedral, and Prince Henry's Palace were all new additions to the graceful city. _I wish you could see _this_ awesomeness, you prick,_ Gilbert laughed in his head at Roderich. _This is true art!_

Gilbert turned to Fritz. "You've done well without me. The people love you."

"Nonsense, I abolished a few things and made a few reforms. That's all."

"That's no small feat. The bureaucracy is doing well and the lands are thriving. I'm glad you've utilized Silesia. You're modernizing us all."

In fact, Fritz had done just that. He had organized a new system of indirect taxation that gave Prussia more revenue than direct taxation, thanks to the help of French experts. He put a new silk factory into work, providing jobs for the people. His control of grain prices and reform for the Thaler had helped the millions of citizens survive in times of bad harvest. He genuinely cared for the people, going out to inspect the potato and turnip harvests himself. Those who he visited were overjoyed beyond belief.

Best of all, Fritz had abolished torture and corporal punishment. His education system was the best in Europe.

Fritz smiled and patted Gilbert on the head. "No more hunting, _sohn_."

The people cheered as they saw Gilbert, recognizing him somehow. He was the spirit of these people, but he was human as well- he had hopes, fears, love, and flaws that made him just the same as any of the people.

In a low voice, Fritz asked Gilbert to stay in Berlin. He agreed.

The years that followed the end of the Seven Years' War were, without doubt, entertaining and surprising to Gilbert. His bosses usually never cared about where he was or how he was faring, but Fritz looked after Gilbert and Ludwig extensively, inviting them to his flute concerts, making sure their education was looked after despite Gilbert's protests. They learned about philosophy, veterinary care, plants, science, and debate, like many other students of their time. Gilbert grew to know him even better, and they often took walks with Fritz's dogs in the mountains. Ludwig himself had three dogs- Blackie, a German Shepard, Berlitz, a Doberman, and Aster, a golden retriever.

_I'm not supposed to get attached_, Gilbert scolded himself. But he was enjoying life now, and through the years he had stood by Fritz through war and peace. They had acquired Royal Prussia in 1772, the western side, and now he could look after Ludwig's assets easily.

Fritz simply smiled as they relaxed in the summer palace of Sanssouci, saying that he was no longer King _in_ Prussia but King _of_ Prussia now. He was happy with his accomplishments and was living life happily now.

The boy that Gilbert had noticed years earlier at the end of the Seven Years' War- von Steuben- had turned out to make history. When England's son America, or Alfred F. Jones, had started his revolution, he had no formal military training at all. Von Steuben was sent in the middle of the war to help Alfred, thanks to the plea of Gilbert. That _aide-de-camp_ had a use after all! The Americans had won their war and Von Steuben was living like a lord in their land- he wasn't actually a Baron, his father had made up that lineage.

It was a huge surprise when von Steuben reported the large population of Hessian troops supporting Arthur Kirkland's army. They were mercenaries, employed, but didn't Christoph have a say in their employment?

Hearing this, Gilbert was now sure that Wyn was gone forever. If her own brother didn't believe she was coming back, he would never have sent his troops to attack the ones that Prussia supported. Even though Gilbert and Christoph had never been close, they maintained a brotherly relationship, and promised to support each other in time of war.

This other war, in another world, had proved the fact that those ties were broken without Wyn, just like in the Seven Years' War.

Though there were short skirmishes with Austria (they couldn't avoid that!) Gilbert and Prussia were at peace. He had a _bruder _to care for, a nice home and a boss that looked after him. His life was so complete, like all the ends of his story were tied up.

He found himself yearning for an adventure.

He couldn't leave Fritz, though. Fritz was getting old and frail, and increasingly lonely. His circle of friends was dying off, and though Gilbert remained youthful and lively, he was like a child compared to his aging _f__ü__hrer_. He wanted Fritz to stay with him and Ludwig always, so he could always have someone to love and cherish, and have the feeling returned. Wyn had already been taken from him; why did Fritz have to go too?

Gilbert patted one of the bright-eyed Italian greyhounds, nicknamed the "Marquises de Pompadour," as he sat next to Fritz, staring at the old man's worn-out and lonely appearance. He _needed _him now, he needed to feel loved. It was a hunger that had died while Fritz was still lively, but was slowly biting at him now. He hated seeing Fritz so pale and reserved when he used to pat Gilbert on the head and laugh so easily.

They were at Sanssouci, Fritz's favorite place. Usually it would bring a glint to his eyes, but now his eyes were dull when he remembered that his court had diminished so much. His childhood friends and allies had gone to the place far away beyond the sunset that he couldn't reach, and Gilbert watched him with concern.

"_F__ü__hrer,_" Gilbert began, but Fritz stopped him.

"You always did remain so courteous and well-mannered, Gilbert. Even through all these years," Fritz said slowly. "_Ich 'hab lieb dich_ very much. So much, _sohn_. When I am gone, do not forget that I will always watch over you."

"Fritz…" Gilbert tried to blink away the tears in his eyes. He _hated_ talking about death, knowing that it would come for his beloved leader soon. "_Bitte…_"

"_Sohn,_ I would've liked to hear you call me _vati _or _vater_. You have great respect for your elders and I understand that- it's just a dying wish of mine," Fritz smiled before continuing. "You are such a deserving boy. Though you hide under your mask, I know who you are inside. You are young, you are free. You are a boy searching for love but had your dreams whisked away by reality. Keep that spirit alive. We both have lost much, and we both loved Wyn. That little boy is still there, Gilbert. Don't let him die buried."

Gilbert held the aged hand of Fritz tightly. "_Vati…_you were my real _vati_, Fritz. _Ich 'hab lieb dich auch und __Ich__will dich nicht zu verlassen uns. _(5)Please don't leave."

"I won't yet, for a while, but I know it's coming. Just sit with me, _sohn_, so we can be family in our last moments."

After the sun set, Gilbert dutifully wheeled the ailing ruler back to his study, as he requested. The lamps were lit and the stars shone above Sanssouci, their little paradise.

Gilbert watched, agitated, running a hand through his messy white hair. Fritz, watching him, smiled, the crow's feet by his eyes curving. He beckoned Gilbert and patted him on the head. "Look after yourself, _sohn_, and teach Ludwig the traditions and wonderful tales of the world. Life isn't meant to just be conquered, but lived as well. Don't work too hard. I'll go to sleep, now, and I expect you to sleep too."

Gilbert nodded, holding back tears. "_Gut nacht_, _vater._"

Fritz smiled once more before he nodded off to sleep, a pleasant expression on his aged features.

Prussia barely made it to the plush chaise before falling asleep himself.

* * *

"Fritz? Fritz! Answer me! It's time to get up, old man!" Gilbert shook the sleeping _K__ö__nig's_ shoulders, who had fallen asleep on his desk. "We have to get back to Berlin by tonight, so we-"

A thought hit Gilbert and his mind was shattered immediately.

"No…"

He touched Fritz's cold hands and screamed before falling to his knees, whimpering. "_Vati, _why? You…left…me…"

Gilbert hugged Fritz's lifeless body in a hug, not letting go. He could still smell the ruler's scent of rugged wood and dog and horse. Fritz couldn't be dead- he couldn't be. He was practically immortal, living longer than almost all the rulers of his age. Gilbert was in denial.

"_Vati…_goodbye…"

Gilbert was sobbing, screaming, and the servants had to tear him away from the beloved king. When he had regained his senses, he locked himself into his bedroom. He didn't come out for three days- until Ludwig was crying. Ludwig couldn't ever be calmed by maids or nurses, only by being held by his _bruder_.

As he held his younger _bruder_ tight, he explained that Fritz had gone to heaven to be with _Gott_.

"He's not coming back?" Ludwig said between tears.

"_Nein_. But he's here with us. He'll be watching us both, so be a _gut_ boy," Gilbert smoothed Ludwig's blond hair back, trying not to break down in front of him. He set him down on the ground gently.

Ludwig nodded and tugged on Gilbert's cravat, wanting to be held more. He had already changed into the dark clothing that was appropriate for court, but he was in mourning now, for the father that had looked after him. Gilbert had watched Old Man Fritz grow up from a boy into a teenager into a respectable, powerful king. Fritz had embodied the standard of Prussia, he had elevated them from the farmers that much of their country had been. The army was the most powerful under his reign and never was stronger again. Fritz made reform and change, and he had been such a powerful influence in Gilbert's life.

_If only I had someone to hold me too._

He had responsibilities to his _bruder_ and couldn't stop the flow of life even if Fritz was dead. Life should have stopped when his _vati_ died. It was like déjà vu, _Gott_ laughing at him, that he lost his second father. Fritz was human; Gilbert knew it was coming but kept denying it, pushing it away.

It was August 17, 1786 when his second father left the world, and when Gilbert vowed never to love again.

He had done enough, hadn't he?

* * *

The country was somber and the air seemed still, the last bits of summer fleeing from the air. Next to Gilbert and Ludwig was a sea of people in black, all of them here for the same purpose.

Gilbert gritted his teeth as he remembered Fritz's wish to be buried in Sanssouci by the terrace, with his greyhounds, without a big ceremony and all the pomp that the people of Prussia had pulled out for him like now. Ludwig looked up at him, frowning, and understanding that Fritz was gone. His ice-blue eyes were serious and blaming, looking upon the casket with a demand of _why_.

Prussia held back his tears as the sea of people parted for him and Ludwig, so they could say their last words to the great _K__ö__nig_. The citizens watched closely with genuine tears and anguish in their eyes. Fritz had done so much for them.

He couldn't bring himself to say anything to his _vati_, just kiss his forehead and take his signet ring. Ludwig was sobbing and hugged Fritz as he said his goodbyes, and the people watched with aching hearts.

The brothers backed away to see Friedrich der Große, Friedrich the Great, be lowered into his final resting place. The dirt was shoveled over the black walnut coffin and Gilbert trembled, remembering Wyn.

The citizens passed and murmured words of comfort to him, but Gilbert still shook violently. _I grew too attached._ A maid had offered to take Ludwig away, and Gilbert simply nodded. Ludwig gave him a begging look, but Gilbert ignored it.

He knelt on the hard stone that had _Friedrich der Gro__ß__e_ etched onto it simply. The dirt under his shoes was soft and squishy- the rains had come in while they were watching him be buried. An iron cross was engraved above his name, and Gilbert traced it with his gloved hand.

Slowly, without sobbing, he placed a bouquet of blue cornflowers over the headstone.

"_Vater_, you led us to glory. You and your unwavering soul refused to back down. You taught me humility and you taught me the love of a family. You were a father to Ludwig and me. I never repaid you for everything you gave, for you gave it wholeheartedly. Fritz _Vater_, please enjoy and listen to this last song that I dedicate to you, and the flowers that represent our nation."

From his pocket he produced the worn flute that Fritz had held and played for all of his life. He took a shuddering breath before playing a song that he had composed himself. The expressions he poured into the piece rivaled Austria's; it took this much to draw those secluded emotions of loneliness, determination, and mourning from his heart. It was a song full of pride, of hurt and longing, and told a story from the beginning of Fritz's life to the end.

watch?v=vMDrGhcLLEY

When it drew to a close, Gilbert lowered his hands and placed the flute back in his pocket. He walked away slowly, dreading each step.

_Danke, Fritz vater_. (6)

It was nice to have some of Old Man Fritz's things for the days ahead, when he'd be alone.

* * *

Ludwig looked up at Gilbert. "What are we learning today?"

Gilbert gave his _bruder_ a big smile, so very fake but his _bruder_ needed the encouragement. "We're going to learn how to fight with swords, like the awesome _mich_!"

Luddy fooled around with the long piece of sharp metal as Gilbert watched, trying to correct his posture and his footwork. At least he'd be occupied for the days ahead.

The new king of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm II, was the nephew of Old Man Fritz. He was weak and strange, a huge disappointment to Gilbert. Both his spouses were unfaithful and Gilbert smirked at the thought. But like the new king's uncle, he was talented in music; during his reign Gilbert met Beethoven and Mozart. He fell in love with the cello, with its baritone and resonating heartfelt sound.

But under this new king, the hate for Austrians faded. Though it was still a large feeling within Gilbert, it was buried under worry for France's new government, the threat of Russia, and the weakening of the army. Fritz would never have let any of this stand.

Gilbert rejoiced when this weak shadow died in 1797, and his son, Friedrich Wilhelm III, took the throne with his beautiful and charitable wife, Luise, Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz.

During the period when Gilbert refused to work for Friedrich Wilhelm II, he watched Ludwig grow from a sweet little boy into a blunt and strong-willed teenager. He was still shorter than Gilbert, but he was growing up into a united nation, gathering the German states into something more. He was still under Prussia, of course, but he was going to become something.

With a sigh, he told his _bruder_ to keep practicing with the gun before he left to accompany King Friedrich Wilhelm III.

In truth, he was dreading the moment when he would meet the son of that unworthy nephew- he still remembered Fritz daily, just as he thought of Wyn the same way. It was a vivid recollection that he looked forward to each day, only to end it glumly as he remembered they were gone.

A beautiful woman with dark brown curls, graceful and sweet-faced, looked up to see Gilbert at the door from her chaise. "You must be Gilbert," she said in a soft, silky tone. He stared blankly at her before remembering his court behavior.

Gilbert swept a bow to the woman. "Pleased to meet you-"

"Luise," She said as he kissed her soft hand.

Gilbert was instantly mesmerized by the dainty, proper woman. Though she was a far cry from Wyn- he gritted his teeth at the memory- she was so feminine, so enchanting, that he forgot who she was. "Your Majesty."

Queen of Prussia.

Fritz had a wife, but Gilbert never spent time with her. It wasn't surprising; they were always away at war. Besides, Fritz never had children. He had Gilbert and Ludwig and he was happy with that.

Luise immediately charmed him and he loyally served the new royal family, helping deal with affairs of state and the rising anger against the French empire. He was among the first to see every one of her lovely nine children be born, before and after the terrible war against his friend Francis, many of whom he taught to hunt and shoot. He hadn't seen any of his fellow countries since the last war- the War of Bavarian Succession, or, as the peasants said, the Potato War. That campaign was pitiful and Gilbert hated it.

Then there came Napoleon, on his strong horse with a new, elite French army. Gilbert dreaded the day they met at Jena-Auerstedt. The army had lain dormant for so many years, and though they were confident of victory, the Prussians were beaten back and the royal family had to flee, Gilbert with them. Though he was ashamed of the heavy losses, the queen had brightened his spirits by showing a will of iron and going out to inspect troops herself, showing her patriotism for her adopted country.

Naturally, the conqueror that he was, Napoleon chased after them. Prussia was being defeated and humiliated, and they were pushed back to the east, the coldest part and northernmost part of the kingdom.

"Your Majesty, are you-" Gilbert watched helplessly as Luise tried looking after her children while coughing violently. There was no clean water or food, and Gilbert was ashamed to bring them to the towns to hide in the barns. They were in Königsberg, the old capital, where Gilbert had spent much of his life.

She waved him away. "We have to survive."

Beautiful Berlin was heavily occupied by Napoleon, and Prussia was losing so badly. Gilbert began to become sick from the country's own decline, of the land and of the people.

Then the French came hunting.

The king was away, trying to contact his military officials and save their falling country. It was just Luise, her children, Gilbert, and the servants. A party had been spotted and they were sure they were the French.

It was early spring and there was no cover from the main road, only a field of blooming blue cornflowers, Gilbert's favorite and the flower of Prussia.

"Quick, hide!" Luise pushed Gilbert ahead of her, telling her children to follow. He was amazed by her will to survive and the determination she showed in preserving her dear adopted Prussia.

They lay on their bellies for only a few minutes before her youngest child, Alexandrine, began to wail loudly.

"_Verdammnt!_" Gilbert cursed, trying to calm the frantic child. Following Alexandrine was Karl, who had a kindly soul and loved his younger sister to death. They were making a ruckus, and they were sure to be spotted.

Luise immediately grabbed the attention of her children with a soft but steely voice. "_Kinder, bitte! Aussehen bei __die__Kornblumen! _(7) Let's make some wreaths to take back, and be proud that we are the royal family of the mighty _Königreich Preußen_..."

Gilbert watched in awe at the woman began weaving together the bright blue flowers, the children as mesmerized as he was. They grew silent and concentrated on trying to imitate their beautiful mother.

Gilbert watched as the French patrol went by, swearing under his breath. _Francis_ of all people was with them! But then, who was the shorter man-

Napoleon.

He dove back into the field and tried calming himself by watching Luise's deft fingers twist the stems of the proud flower into a neverending circle.

When Luise looked up, she smiled. "Gilbert, _du sind ein Kind auch._ (8) They're gone."

She reached up and patted his head, looking hopeful. Gilbert struggled not to cry as he remembered the light touch of Fritz from the years before, and the smooth voice of Wyn telling him that he was like a child.

Napoleon never ceased to threaten and embarrass the royal couple; he called Luise the only man in Prussia in front of her husband and tried destroying her reputation. He called her a whore and questioned her marriage. Despite all of that, she met him several times to try and save her Prussia. She was quite fond of Gilbert anyways; her charm and beauty had to flatter the emperor at least!

The people loved her all the more even with these accusations and rumors. To Gilbert's surprise, she swore after he left every time, damning him to hell, _der Monster_ (9)!

Then came the story of her prostration at his feet, determined to save as much of the land as she could. She pushed aside her pride and threw herself at his feet, begging him to let Prussia stand. _If I push my pride aside just for once and save my country, then I'll do it._

Her mask came back on when her husband summoned her to beg for a better settlement for their country at the peace talks. Napoleon refused to make any more concessions but maintained respect for her grace and humility before him. The Prussians loved her even more for this, making her the most beloved queen in the history of the country. Who could believe that she had adopted Prussia?

Prussia was utterly defeated and humiliated- by his best friend, France. Did their friendship still stand despite the war?

Gilbert hardened his jaw as he stared at Francis standing behind Napoleon. Everyone was in full court regalia, their finest uniforms and Luise in a dazzling dress and jewels. They were in the town of Tilsit, unremarkable except that this was the stage for his greatest embarrassment. How could Luise's husband send for her in _this condition?!_ The woman was pregnant, for _Gott's_ sake!

As he listened closely to their terms of surrender, he became more and more outraged, but was unable to do anything about it. He would have to get drunk out of his mind after this- it was utter humiliation. Napoleon wanted half of Prussia, which would be split for Russia, Saxony, and Poland, who had survived after all. They had to quarter the troops and pay a hundred and twenty million francs to France- almost impossible, especially with the fact that a hundred and twenty million francs was the equivalent of their yearly budget.

But Luise wasn't done with her service to Prussia yet. Even after the devastating war, Luise regained her hope and optimism, and began to prepare her oldest son, Friedrich Wilhelm IV, for the throne.

The country followed suit to watch the bright young queen march forward and plant her feet towards the future. Luise was reviving Prussia's former grandeur and pride, and as she helped the country make strides forward, Gilbert began regaining his former strength and health.

Ludwig now accompanied them to court and reforming of the government in Königsberg, learning the ins and outs as Gilbert had done long ago with Germania. Germania-! His first father, who had died so long ago, and with him, Wyn…

Silesia had survived and most of it was still Gilbert's to keep, the part that he treasured the most. Wrocław (pronounced Vratslav), her capital and heart, was on the middle of the Oder River and Prussia still had that.

Gilbert focused his efforts on training Ludwig to fight and more importantly, _serve_ in the army. Everything was a disaster, in chaos, and it was up to them to reorganize it.

After the birth of her tenth child (but ninth in survivors of childbirth and seventh in survivors), Gilbert accompanied them back to Berlin, Fritz's capital. He was washed over with a wave of memory and sadness, barely recognizing the sacked city. Luise was as popular as ever, and beside her were her connections and close political friends, the generals and her family. The queen was somber now, having almost nothing of their miraculous past left. Prussia was different now, and despite not having spoken to Francis, Gilbert harbored anger at his betrayal.

* * *

It was 1810 in July, and the queen had just finished visiting her father in Strelitz. Gilbert was there to greet her at the door, taking note of her unusual paleness and quietness. "Your Majesty, are you alright?" he asked softly.

Luise gave him a small smile. "Let me see Friedrich…"

She placed a small hand on Gilbert's supporting arm as he led her to her husband's rooms, where she collapsed into Friedrich's arms.

"She'll be fine, Gilbert. _Danke_ for-"

He stopped as Luise shuddered and became still in his arms.

Gilbert stared as Friedrich shook his wife. "No, Luise, you can't leave me, _bitte, Gott_…Luise!"

The grief-stricken king yelled at Gilbert to get out and leave him to grieve.

Luise, the woman who came the closest to piercing Gilbert's outer shell, with her soft, sad eyes and curved smile and graceful touch, was gone.

"It was the French," one man said. "Napoleon's touch sickened and killed her."

"It was at the wrong time, the wrong place," another said.

"_Stoppen! _(10)" Gilbert yelled. "Just let her rest in peace, for _Gott's_ sake!"

The room froze and left the mourning country alone. Prussia had always lost his best rulers and friends; he was a lone wolf without anyone except his _bruder_, who he had to care for. Why?

Luise was only thirty-four. It was July 19, 1810.

"Our saint is in heaven," General Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher said at her funeral. The Russians were there and Friedrich went on to marry his mistress. "The King has lost his best minister," Napoleon said after the incident.

Her untimely death had left many strings untied, at a period of great loss and difficulty, when reform and courage was needed. She was gone.

_Her grave is at least as spectacular as she was,_ Gilbert thought bitterly. _She would have wanted to be buried in the garden of Charlottenburg Palace. She loved the cornflowers that surrounded here._

He laid a bouquet of cornflowers and played a new composition for his queen on Fritz's flute, like he had done for Old Man Fritz two generations ago. It was a sickening, fateful moment that seemed repeated, like he was destined to mourn his friends for eternity.

The grieving king went on to found the Order of Luise as a compliment for the Iron Cross, which had become a symbol of national pride. They would be buried together and stay together for eternity. Luise embodied the spirit of the great queens of Prussia, the perfect symbol with sovereign grace. She would be remembered for eternity.

_If only they'd all stay for eternity,_ Gilbert sighed and wiped away his tears. _I'm too weak, too soft, I fall so easily from-_

_You're only human, like the rest of us,_ Luise seemed to say in his head. _I'm with Fritz now. Please lift your head up, dear boy, and smile._

He looked up the sky in agony and in demand to ask, _why would you do this to any of us?_

* * *

Wyn looked out from the prow of the ship, the orders in Dutch being shouted around her by Lars and his captain. He gave her a smirk with his pipe in his thin lips before joining her. "Where would you like to go, Wyn?"

"Maybe I should check on Gilbert…" Wyn said hesitantly. It had been far too long, almost seventy years. She hadn't aged a day, but what about Fritz? What could have happened?

"Do you really need him?" Lars pressed her. "We can if you want, but do you really need to?"

Lars always made her question everything. It was both a blessing and a curse.

"Has something happened?" she asked softly.

"Prussia was almost wiped off the map by France a couple years ago. A new ruler, Napoleon, has been marching around Europe and Russia and even Africa. Things have changed."

"Lars, you didn't tell me anything!" Wyn raged, punching him in the arm.

"I'm not the one injured," Lars scoffed. "Now, would you like to plot a course to Prussia or explore the-"

"Prussia!" Wyn exclaimed. "Don't think I'm being nice on you, because I won't forgive you if we don't see him."

"Why can't you see me?" Lars demanded. "Why always him, because he breaks your heart every time?"

He caught her fist before it landed on his chest and pulled her in tight. "Wyn, I've cared for you a long time. If he ever refuses you, you can come to me."

"Let's go, Lars, before I beat your head in."

He laughed and ruffled her silver hair. Wyn fumed as she stormed into the cabin, waiting for the moment when she would see him again.

_Last night, I wrote you a letter and prepared a gift all night_  
_ I prepared it for you_  
_ I'm already worried_  
_ What face should I be making?_  
_ I wear the best clothes I have_  
_ I look in the mirror again and again and fix myself up (fix myself up)_  
_ After finishing all preparations_  
_ I run toward you_

_From today on, I won't call you by "you" (I won't)_  
_ From now on, I will call you "love" (I will love you)_  
_ I won't say much but I'll show you from one to ten_  
_ It's from today, you and I have started anew_

_Yeah from some point, my eyes keep drawing you out_  
_ Turn your ears to my heart, your name keeps flowing from my lips_  
_ Your bright face and a silhouette, shining sun_  
_ No one could have crossed our line of destiny_  
_ Now I walk on this path with you_  
_ Smile at me so everyone can see_  
_ I will always be where your eye can see_  
_ There's no need for words, I'll give you everything now_

_The times we spent together was so comfortable for me_  
_ As if time stopped, as if this place stopped_  
_ I will honestly confess to you_

_The moment I first saw you, I stopped in place (stopped)_  
_ I'll tell you again, I already wanted you from then on (I only wanted you)_  
_ From today on, I will make you my girl_  
_ I love you, you and I, we already begun_

_Time goes by, I will stay by your side_  
_ Looking back, everything was meaningless_  
_ Wherever you are, wherever that is_  
_ I will walk, I will walk again, you never know_  
_ Don't pass me by, wherever you are_  
_ Even if it's the end, it will always be timeless_  
_ Even if time will stop soon_  
_ Open your heart. (11)_

As Wyn looked out to the ocean, she knew that everything would be different when she got back. Fritz couldn't still be alive- she grieved at this undeniable fact. How would she know how Gilbert or Christoph felt about her reappearance after so many years, when they must have grieved and lost hope? It had been almost a century without her. How did the War of Austrian Succession turn out?

There were so many questions and Lars wouldn't give her answers. Who was there left to trust?

Her family was broken, and Wyn was alone. She could only pray to _Gott_ that they would receive her kindly.

Undoubtedly, Wyn would have to see it through that they would know she was alive.

If it was the last thing she could do for them, that would be it.

_~~~FIN: Book 1 of the Wyn Trilogy~~~_

* * *

**(1) Are you alright? (Dutch)**

**(2) yes/yeah (Dutch and German)**

**(3) No, you're not. Liar. (Dutch)**

**(4) Welcome to Berlin, Gilbert. (German)**

**(5) I love you a lot too (family), and I don't want you to leave us. (German)**

**(6) Thank you, Fritz-father.**

**(7) Children, please! Look at the cornflowers!**

**(8) Gilbert, you're [like] a child too.**

**(9) the monster!**

**(10) Stop [it]!**

**(11) My new favorite song, D-Day by HISTORY :) It's perfect for the upcoming moment, isn't it? Please listen to it! D-Day...hmm...isn't that going to be in my fanfic soon? (hint hint :D)**

**Everything in this chapter and chapter 19 are REAL! I'm so proud to say that I've finished my first fanfic :) Thank you everyone for your kind words of encouragement, your support, and your continued reading and following. Please, even though this fanfic is done, READ AND REVIEW! Reviews are always welcome! Suggestions, changes, fixes, this fanfiction is for YOU. You've helped me a lot and Wyn has forced me to grow into a deeper thinker, and I hope you have too, reader.**

**Can you believe I wrote over 7000 words for this last chapter?! I'm super freaked out too! My record is going to skyrocket! As you can see, I'm super giddy and surprised and overwhelmingly happy that I'm finished.  
**

**Please look forward to _Jaded_ and continue to support the Wyn Trilogy :) *does a little kpop-y happy dance in background* You are all the best of people and I'm happy to share this with you.**

**I hate to end on a cliffhanger but...what would be there to look forward to? ;)  
**

**Surprises are in store and I am changing the plotline...Wyn will get some good female friends along the way :) **

**DANKE EVERYONE! PLEASE SUPPORT, READ AND REVIEW! WE LOVE YOU GUYS!**


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